


hi, hello (again)

by thenationsrapper



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas au!, Exes to Lovers, Hwang Hyunjin is a Good Friend but also #1 on seungmins hitlist, M/M, a normal amount of pining, angst (but not a lot), bar au kind of, jeonglix are normal, mistlefoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenationsrapper/pseuds/thenationsrapper
Summary: Seungmin feels anger begin to simmer under his skin and he clenches his jaw to keep himself from saying something he’s definitely going to regret later. Taking a deep breath, he says, as calmly as he can, “Don’t, Jisung. Not now.”“Then when?” Jisung hisses, leaning forward, and Seungmin does his best to stifle the sudden, unexplainable urge to pull him closer. “If not now, then when? It’s been a year, Seungmin.”“I know how long it’s been, thanks,” Seungmin snaps, patience wearing thin. “We can talk about this later.”Jisung scoffs, shaking his head like he isn’t surprised in the slightest. “It’s always like this with you.”(Alternatively: Ex-boyfriends Seungmin and Jisung reunite a year later to perform a duet on Christmas Eve at a bar.)
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Kim Seungmin
Comments: 38
Kudos: 203
Collections: STAY CAROLS 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!  
> [1] first of all, thank you so much to the moderators for coming up with this! it was an unbelievably fun experience writing this fic, so thank you!  
> [2] to whoever submitted this prompt: thank you for the prompt. i’ve always wanted to write an exes to lovers fic and this was just the perfect opportunity. i hope i’m able to do justice to your prompt and that you enjoy reading what i’ve come up with!  
> [3] to the reader: if you manage to read my word vomit all the way, kudos to you! i hope you like it <3  
> have a wonderful holiday and the happiest new year!
> 
> [Prompt #03:exes seungmin and jisung have been asked to perform "congratulations" on a bar at christmas eve where the lonely ones spend their holidays]

Seungmin squints at the address Chan had texted him, double checking to make sure he’s at the right location. In front of him stands what seems to be a horribly desolate bar, unrealistically silent despite it being a few hours well into the evening. _And_ it was a weekend. Shouldn’t the inside be erupting with raucous yells? The unabashedly loud existence of a group of college students like himself? Or maybe this isn’t _that_ kind of bar, Seungmin muses. Trust Chan to pick a place with absolutely nothing going on for it. 

He shakes his head and pushes the solid – what is that, oak? – door in front of him, grimacing when he pushes too hard and a bolt of pain shoots up his arm. He takes a step inside and frowns; it’s really not that bad, after all. The lighting is dim, but it casts a soft glow on the circumference of the bar, coloring it a gentle yellow. The air inside is warm too, and Seungmin can hear the distant thrum of heaters working at double power to stifle the cold from outside; December this year was faring chillier than they’d expected it to. 

He sighs and looks around, gaze flying over a couple of people seated at different tables, either on their phones or staring off into the distance, before finally landing on a figure seated at a table in the far corner, completely clad in black from the dark fabric of his hoodie to the cap resting on his head. _Bingo_. He walks up to Chan, who is busy scrolling through his phone and grins. “Hey, hyung.”

“Seungminnie!” Chan exclaims, just a tad bit startled at the sudden arrival. The unexpected outburst garners the attention of the few lonesomes sitting closest to them, but within moments their eyes flit away and resume looking longingly into their drinks. Chan pockets his phone in one swift motion and leans over to ruffle Seungmin’s hair with his hand, bringing him back to earth. “I missed you,” he says and Seungmin sighs. “I’ve missed you too, hyung, trust me. But you know how uni is. You should be glad I’m still alive.”

Chan laughs, his cap sliding further down his forehead. “Yeah, I talked to Hyunjinnie earlier too. He said pretty much the same thing.”

Seungmin hums, taking the seat across from Chan. He hasn’t spoken to Hyunjin in a while, seeing as they were studying at different universities and the last stretch of the semester was always particularly taxing. He should call him sometime, meet up before Christmas. Anyway, “Hyung, why’d you call me here? Besides the ambience, of course.”

Chan cracks a smile at his obvious sarcasm, before leaning in with an unusual glimmer in his eyes. “Seungminnie, I actually have a favor to ask of you.” 

“Oh?” Seungmin responds, lips parting in surprise. Of all the things he’d been expecting Chan to say, this hadn’t been one of them. Mainly because Chan didn’t usually ask for favours, but was rather the one whom everyone approached in times of need. It strikes him as unusual, and he really can’t think of any way he’d be useful to _Chan_ of all people, who is almost entirely self-sufficient. He finds himself nodding nonetheless, because at the end of the day there is little he wouldn’t do for his friend. “Sure, hyung. What is it?”

“Well, you see this bar?”

Seungmin almost snorts in response. Of course he _sees_ it, he’s seated inside the damn thing. “Yes, hyung. I see it.”

“So,” Chan continues, oblivious to Seungmin’s growing sense of dislike for their meetup place, “one of my old friends from university bought it recently.”

“Mhm,” Seungmin urges him to go ahead while wondering what could prompt anyone in their right mind to _willingly_ purchase such a depressing establishment. 

“And he was thinking, since business is pretty slow nowadays–” (Slow would be an understatement, Seungmin can’t help but think. The bar was pretty much empty save for the few people around them and the young bartender who looked like she was on the verge of death.) “–why not do some sort of performance on Christmas? Maybe a song, a few dances. Something like that. You know, for Christmas cheer!” 

“That sounds lovely, hyung,” he lies, “but where do I come in?” 

“Well, Minho – my friend – he asked me to look for people who might be willing to perform a duet, and so I thought why not Seungminnie, right? You can sing!” Chan replies enthusiastically, nearly causing his glass bottle to topple over. 

Seungmin takes one look at the way his friend’s eyes have lit up with excitement and resigns himself to his utterly miserable fate; there’s no way he can say no to Chan. Singing in front of a live audience though, especially now, seemed way out of his comfort zone. And a duet? That would be a hundred times more nerve-wracking, especially considering the fact that Seungmin hasn’t sung with someone else since–

“It’s fine if you can’t, Seungminnie,” Chan says as the silence stretches on, sensing his discomfort. His brows furrow slightly. “I’ll find someone else, put up posters or something.”

Seungmin’s cheeks burn with embarrassment, the idea of disappointing Chan much too humiliating. His friend rarely ever asks him for favours and the one time he _is,_ Seungmin will not turn him down no matter what. “No, no, hyung,” he finds himself saying, “I’ll do it. I’m just a bit hesitatant because it’s been a while since I’ve had to sing. And that too with someone else. You know I prefer working alone.”

He doesn’t mean to sound accusatory, but Chan deflates even so. "I know, Seungminnie,” he exhales, slumping in his seat. “I’m genuinely really sorry about that. Minho’s already found people to do solos though, so I thought I’d sign you up for a duet instead.”

Seungmin sighs a bit resignedly at that. “It’s fine, hyung.”

“You can still cancel anytime, I promise. There’s no pressure,” Chan adds, as reassuring as ever. Seungmin can’t help but smile when Chan gives his hand a gentle pat. “I know, hyung. It’s really okay, pinky promise,” he says, and only when he links pinkies with him does Chan lean back in his chair, looking a lot more relieved than he was moments ago. 

“Oh,” he exclaims suddenly, a moment later. He places his bottle on the table, fumbling with his phone for a few seconds before standing up. “Seungminnie,” he says, causing Seungmin to look up at him in confusion. “I forgot to tell you something.”

“Okay…?”

“I met the most incredible guy a few days ago. He’s amazing, you’ll love him. Point is, I think he’ll be willing to perform the duet with you.” 

Seungmin frowns at Chan’s sudden gabber. “Who is it? And does he even know me?”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m certain he doesn’t. And no, I don’t think you’ve met him either. He just flew in from America a few days ago.”

Seungmin hears America and immediately thinks: freshly dyed blue hair and packed suitcases, bright red headphones slung around a long neck, hot, angry tears and a fleeting kiss to a pair of chapped lips. America. It makes his heart ache. 

He clasps his hands tightly together, knuckles turning white. There was no point in letting old memories resurface. “That sounds cool,” he manages to say finally, forcing a smile, “Did you ask him to meet us here as well?”

When Chan nods, Seungmin simply hums, pulling out his phone to kill time as Chan waits for his friend at the entrance. He gets so absorbed in his game, he doesn’t hear the approaching footsteps, the gentle murmur of voices. 

Since his back is facing the entrance, he only notices the new arrival when Chan clears his throat, alerting him of his presence. Seungmin stuffs his phone inside the pocket of his sweatshirt and looks up. His eyes take in a mustard coloured hoodie hanging off a slim but surprisingly bulky frame, black pants wrapped around skinny legs and a pair of platforms that are almost uncomfortably familiar. Seungmin feels his stomach churn, dread beginning to simmer somewhere deep within him. _It can’t be_ , he thinks, but the shoes and the hoodie and everything else about the person standing in front of him might as well have been that sun-lit smile he’s always been so fond of. 

Seungmin swallows, fighting the urge to scramble out of his seat and run as far away as he possibly can from here. Beside him, Chan coughs awkwardly, an obvious plea to behave normally in front of his guest, and Seungmin decides that for the sake of his friend he can at least spare a glance to whoever is waiting so patiently for him. _It’s not him_ , he tells himself firmly. A lot of people fly in from America, especially at this time of the year. It could be anyone, really. It might even be his old cousin from Vegas, the one with the missing tooth. Half convinced by his own nonsensical convictions, he sucks in a breath and finally, _finally_ raises his gaze to the other man’s face. 

It’s half obscured by a black mask, but when Seungmin looks up, a small hand comes up to pull it down. And that’s when Seungmin’s heart drops right down to his stomach. He prides himself in being correct the majority of the time, but at this very moment, he would give anything to be wrong. Because looking at the person standing a few feet away, all he can think about is how he knows that face, knows those eyes and especially those lips. How he knows everything there is to know about him. 

_“You’ll love him,”_ Chan had said earlier, with the sureness any adult could muster. Funny choice of words. Very accurate as well, seeing as Seungmin _had_ loved him. Because, of course, right in front of him stands Jisung. 

Seungmin can’t take his eyes off him. It’s really, truly him. 14 months since he left, but he’s back now in all his 5’8 glory. He parts his lips to speak, to say _something_ , then purses them again. His tongue is a heavy, unmoving mass, resting uselessly in his mouth, unable to form a coherent word let alone an entire sentence. What exactly do you say to your ex who you’re meeting after a year? There’s an odd sting in his eyes, irritating and absolutely unnecessary. Seungmin blinks, waits for his vision to clear, but when he looks up again Jisung is still there with a frown etched on his all too familiar face. 

“Seungmin?” Chan presses, completely oblivious to the brewing tension between him and Jisung. “Are you okay?”

He wants to shake his head violently, punch a wall, maybe even slap himself. “Yes, hyung,” he replies instead, without so much as a tremor in his voice. He gives him a tight-lipped smile before turning to face Jisung. “Hello,” he says politely, holding out his hand for a shake. It’s what’s custom, right? Jisung blinks at his outstretched hand, apparently thrown off, and then does something Seungmin should’ve been expecting him to do all along (because it’s Jisung, for God’s sake), but didn’t because he was too caught up in, well, _Jisung_. 

Jisung laughs. He _laughs -_ all pearly teeth and pink gums, head thrown back with the force of it. Seungmin stares at him in disbelief for a few seconds before retracting his hand, frustrated with the way Jisung was behaving. Why was _he_ trying his best to ensure that they acted professionally while the latter merely found it incredibly amusing and was making no effort whatsoever to carry out a normal conversation? It doesn’t seem fair to Seungmin at all. 

“Shut up,” Seungmin snaps a moment later, feeling increasingly annoyed as Jisung’s laughter borders hysterical. _What’s so funny_ , he thinks, inconspicuously dabbing at the corner of his eye with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Will you shut _up_ ,” he says again, when Jisung’s giggles show no sign of dying down anytime soon. 

Beside him Chan’s mouth drops open in horror at his words, eyes darting between him and Jisung in obvious worry. “ _Seungmin_ ,” he whispers, completely aghast, “stop being so rude.” To Jisung he adds, “I’m really sorry, Jisung-ssi. He isn’t normally like this, I promise. He’s actually very polite.”

“Oh, I’ll bet,” Jisung smirks, pulling out the chair closest to Seungmin and seating himself on it. He props his chin on his hand and stares at Seungmin with eyes that glint too much and for all the wrong reasons. “So, Minnie, what’s up? Long time no see.” 

Seungmin blinks, startled; it throws him off, hearing Jisung say his name like that after so long. _Minnie_. It lacks the fondness now, the affection that had always accompanied it like a warm blanket. This time, it sounds like an accusation, sharp and cold. It digs into his skin like an arrowhead. (“Why are you doing this, Seungmin?”) Seungmin sucks in a breath. _It’s not your fault_ , he reminds himself. Because it isn’t. And if Jisung still blames him for what happened over a year ago, then that’s his own problem and no one else’s. Seungmin had done the right thing and he would do it all over again if he had to.

With fresh defiance he raises his chin and gazes back at Jisung with the same intensity, folding his hands on the table. “I’m fine. Better, actually. How are you? How was America?” He’s approaching dangerous territory, he knows. Treading water. 

Just as he had expected, the cool smile Jisung had on earlier slips off his face immediately, his neutral expression contorting into one of poorly concealed anger. “Don’t you dare ask about–”

Before he can finish his sentence, however, Chan steps in, sliding a drink towards Jisung with a gentle smile while simultaneously mouthing at Seungmin to back off. Seungmin had almost forgotten he was here, so busy trying to wrap his mind around the fact that _Jisung_ was in front of him again. His head is a whirlwind of thoughts. How does he feel? Is he happy to see Jisung? No. Yes. Maybe. He looks good– healthier, so that’s something. And he’s grown a bit taller. Actually no, it’s just those ridiculous shoes of his. And his rings. He’s still got those on as well; one on both indexes, one on his right ring finger and another on his middle one, just like always. His hair isn’t blue anymore, though, dyed back to its natural black. Seungmin had always said black suited him best. He blinks, wondering why his throat feels so dry all of a sudden. 

All in all, he decides, taking a sip of his drink, Jisung hasn’t changed a lot. So, how does Seungmin feel? He isn’t sure. He’ll have to decide that later, preferably after Chan stops glaring at him like he’s masterminded the greatest betrayal of the century. 

“What, hyung?” he sighs, and shrinks a little when Chan gives him the _look._

“You know Jisung-ssi?”

“You can just call me Jisung,” the latter chips in over the straw placed firmly between his lips, and Chan hums in acknowledgement. 

“Well, yeah,” Seungmin says to Chan, stopping himself from rolling his eyes just in time. “Why would I tell a random stranger to shut up? I’m better than that.”

“Actually, he’s not,” Jisung interjects, turning to face Chan. His tone has simmered down from a growl to something playful and Seungmin exhales quietly in relief. “There _was_ this one time in Cheongdam when he told a passerby to be quiet. He’s quite rude, Seungmin is.” 

“That’s not true!” Seungmin fires back, feeling his face flare up in embarrassment. Jisung hadn’t even bothered to explain the context, being the asshat that he is. To Chan he says, “You might want to know this now, hyung, but Jisung is a huge liar. He lies _all_ the time and–" 

“ _I'_ _m_ the liar?” Jisung scoffs, incredulous, planting his bottle on the table, “Who lied about finishing my birthday cake and blamed it on Hyunjin?” 

“I _told_ you it was _him._ Ask anyone! Ask Changbin hyung–”

“Enough!” Chan exclaims, smacking his hand on the table. The impact makes his bottle teeter dangerously on the edge, flecks of condensation scattering on the wooden surface. “Enough. Both of you, calm down.”

Jisung glowers at him and Seungmin resists the urge to stick his tongue out in response. He feels like he’s five again and seriously considers kicking his ex-boyfriend under the table where even Chan’s piercing eyes wouldn’t be able to see him. Jisung has a habit of making him feel younger than he really is. 

He clears his throat, glancing at Chan. Ex or no ex, they’ve got more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. “So,” he says, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes now boring holes into the side of his skull, “you want us to sing a duet?” 

Chan nods slowly, but there’s a troubled look on his face now, like he’s having second thoughts. Seungmin can’t blame him, honestly. It’s only been a few minutes and him and Jisung have begun their bickering already. _Had it always been like this_ , a part of him wonders. 

“I don’t mind going ahead with it,” Seungmin shrugs when no one says anything, wiggling his straw in the glass; there’s more ice inside than the actual drink. He pushes it back with a grimace; so much for a good margarita, he thinks. Sighing, he looks up, only to find both Chan and Jisung staring at him with barely concealed surprise. “What?”

“You don’t mind the two of us working together…?” Jisung questions. His voice is unusually quiet now, a stark contrast from all the raucous he was causing earlier. Seungmin swallows, refusing to meet his gaze in fear of seeing something that will make him ache all over. _It’s just a song_ , he tells himself, eyes tracking the movement of the drops of condensation rolling down the side of his glass. It’s just a song that the of them have to sing together. “As long as you’re okay with it,” he replies finally, as nonchalantly as he can, “It’s not like we haven’t done it before, right?”

Jisung’s lips twist into a sort of half grimace, half smile, like he’s reliving a memory he wishes he wasn’t but doesn’t want to let go of, either. Seungmin knows that look: he’s been seeing it in the mirror for a year now. “Yeah, that’s true,” Jisung says finally. He’s quiet for a moment, and then, “Okay, I’ll do it. What song do you want us to perform?”

The two of them gaze expectantly at Chan, who rather than bursting into song at their decision like Seungmin had expected, now sinks lower into his seat. “Well,” he chuckles, a little nervously. “Um, it’s actually kind of funny…”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you now hyung, I will _not_ perform something ridiculous, okay? Christmas cheer be damned.”

Chan shakes his head, dark curls bouncing enthusiastically. Beside him, Jisung’s lips twitch, and Seungmin has to bite back a grin himself. “No, no.” His friend clarifies, “The song itself isn’t funny. The opposite, actually. It’s just… considering the situation…” he trails off, eyes flitting between him and Jisung. “Anyway, the song Minho chose is by Day6.”

Seungmin’s brows knit together in confusion. “That’s fine, though. Why are you acting so weird, hyung? You do know I’m a fan of their music, right?” 

“Yes, well…” Chan begins, eyeing his fingernails like they’re suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “It’s, uh… Congratulations, yeah…”

“Oh." Is all Seungmin says. He looks around him, wondering which wall would be the best to give himself a concussion as quickly as possible. Chan appears to be figuring out the same thing. The only person who looks completely unbothered is Jisung, who’s staring expectantly at Chan to continue speaking. 

“Um, am I missing something?” he cuts in a few moments later, when neither Seungmin or Chan make any effort to elaborate any further. “Congratulations on what? Did something happen?” His eyes land on Seungmin’s hand, shamelessly examining each finger one by one. If hands could burn under the weight of someone’s gaze, Seungmin’s would be on fire by now. 

It takes a moment for him to realize what fatuous conclusion Jisung has landed on this time, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh in sheer incredulity or smack him. “I did _not_ get engaged, oh my god. Are you crazy?” he snaps, snatching his hand from the table and stuffing it in his pocket. 

“ _Hey_ , I didn’t even say anything about an engagement,” Jisung whines, leaning back in his chair with a pout, but he has the same look he had on his face when he found out he’d passed his chemistry final in high school.

“I’m only twenty-one. _God_.” Seungmin mutters, still a bit staggered at Jisung’s ridiculous deduction. _Marriage._ Is he actually crazy? 

Jisung huffs, folding his arms. “You’re the one who brought it up, anyway. I was just–”

“Staring at my hand like a creep. Yeah.”

“I was _not–_ And also, what’s wrong with getting hitched at twenty-one?”

Seungmin’s eyes widen at how defensive Jisung sounds. “Are _you_ getting engaged, then?”

“What the hell, _no.”_ Jisung looks just as taken aback as him. “And anyway,” he mutters, more to himself than Seungmin, “who would I be getting engaged to anyway?”

Seungmin blinks and looks away, unable to put a finger on why exactly Jisung's answer satisifed him so much.

“Guys,” Chan sighs tiredly, running a hand down his face. “If you’re done fighting, can we please focus on the performance now?” 

He hands Jisung a set of airpods and explains that Congratulations is the song Minho wanted the two of them to sing. (“Hold on,” Seungmin had said, “didn't you say the performance was for “Christmas cheer”? Who performs a break-up song on _Christmas?_ ”)

While Jisung listens to the song, Seungmin monitors him carefully. His expression is neutral, small fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. Seungmin can tell, when he purses his lips and stops drumming his fingers, that he’s focusing more on the lyrics now rather than the instrumental – months spent with Jisung in his cramped dorm room, listening to whatever new song he had cooked up has resulted in Seungmin knowing the meaning behind every quirk of his lips and furrow of his brow. 

Still, he can’t help but wonder how Jisung feels right _now_ , sitting across from his ex and listening to a song that’s clearly about a messy, bitter breakup. Does he feel just as confused as Seungmin? Like he’s been flung into an alternate universe, asked to carry out a task without being given any specific instructions? Because Seungmin can’t even feel the ground beneath his feet anymore, lost like a cloud. 

Two minutes in, Jisung closes his eyes and is leaning back in his chair. His hair flops over his forehead, making him look impossibly young. Right now, he seems most familiar, a solidifying shadow of the boy Seungmin had handed his heart to so many months ago and for a few moments, time crawls back in the crevices of Seungmin’s brain, pulling out a memory that’s yellowing around the edges. Now the two of them are back in Jisung’s dorm, listening to a new track he has been working on. He will smile shyly soon, a little embarrassed and so, _so_ vulnerable it will make Seungmin wonder how he’s the same boy who blazes with the intensity of a thousand suns. _“How is it?”_ he will ask, earnest eyes fixed on him, and Seungmin– Seungmin will reach out to grasp his hand– 

Jisung sits up abruptly, and Seungmin snatches his hand back, pretending that he’d been reaching for his drink, which now comprises only half melted ice cubes. He pointedly ignores the amused look Chan shoots his way, playing around with his straw again. What had he been playing at, trying to slide his hand into Jisung’s? It had hardly been an hour since he’d seen Jisung, and he was already having the strangest urges. He shakes his head, swallowing to rid his mouth of the strange, bitter taste that has filled it. 

“– and Seungmin could do that?” Jisung is saying, when Seungmin finally refocuses on the conversation flowing between him and Chan. 

He blinks. “Do what?”

Jisung quirks an eyebrow. “Were you not listening?” Before Seungmin can defend himself, he says, “Doesn’t matter. I was just saying since there’s a rap in this, I could do that and you could do all the vocal bits.”

“I don’t think that’ll work. It’s supposed to be a duet, remember? You’re supposed to sing together at one point as well,” Chan explains, going over the lyrics once more. “Hang on, I’ll try dividing the lines.”

Seungmin shrugs, unbothered. Chan has heard him sing, he knows what notes Seungmin will be able to carry out well and which parts will fit his voice best, so he isn’t particularly picky about the line distribution. 

While Chan makes notes on his phone, Seungmin sighs and sinks into his seat, hooking his ankles together under the table. He lets his eyes flit to Jisung, only to find the other boy already looking at him. The startled sound he lets out isn’t missed by Jisung, whose mouth twitches ever so slightly. Still, despite being caught, he doesn’t look away. His brows furrow, lips parting slightly as his eyes skim over Seungmin’s face with even more intensity than before. 

“What?” Seungmin asks finally, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He can feel his face heat up, which is strange. Why was Jisung’s company still affecting him so much, and that too after an entire year of being apart? 

Jisung shrugs, completely unabashed. Apparently being caught staring shamelessly at someone’s face was the norm, now. “Nothing. You look good.” 

Seungmin’s heart does an uncharacteristic flip in his chest. “Don’t say that,” he mutters, tearing his gaze from Jisung’s soulful eyes. One year later and Jisung still manages to let his words fluster him. 

Seungmin blames it on the way he had said it; voice soft and raspy, his words sincere and honest as they always are and it hurts. It hurts more than he had thought it would, to have Jisung sit across from him and know that everything that had happened between them was a distant memory now, one that he had locked away somewhere deep within the confines of his heart. That no matter how close they were physically, Jisung was still impossibly out of reach. 

“Why not?” Jisung asks with a frown. 

Seungmin scoffs, “You know _why_ , Jisung. Don’t play dumb.” 

“Oh,” Jisung laughs a moment later, humorless and empty. It makes the hair on the back of Seungmin’s neck stand up. “So I can’t even offer a simple compliment to you now because we broke up? Wait, no, because _you_ broke up with me?”

Seungmin feels anger begin to simmer under his skin and he clenches his jaw to keep himself from saying something he’s definitely going to regret later. Taking a deep breath, he says, as calmly as he can, “Don’t, Jisung. Not now.” 

“Then when?” Jisung hisses, leaning forward, and Seungmin does his best to stifle the sudden, unexplainable urge to pull him closer. “If not now, then _when?_ It’s been a year, Seungmin.”

“I know how long it’s been, thanks,” Seungmin snaps, patience wearing thin. “We can talk about this later.” 

Jisung scoffs, shaking his head like he isn’t surprised in the slightest. “It’s always like this with you.”

“Sure, go ahead and blame it on me.” He’s tired all of a sudden, sick of their constant back and forth. Feeling a dull ache beginning to work its way to his forehead, he closes his eyes with a weary sigh and rests his head on the back of his chair. If Jisung wants to act immature, Seungmin isn’t going to stop him. They’re past that stage now; Jisung can do whatever the hell he wants. 

“I am,” his ex says, and Seungmin merely hums in response.

“I hate you,” Jisung says after a beat of silence, his voice hardly above a whisper. Three words muttered so petulantly, like a child being denied their favorite candy. Seungmin would’ve believed him had it not been for the tremor in his voice when he had said it. “Okay,” he replies indifferently, “So hate me.” 

Jisung doesn’t say anything in response and Seungmin keeps his eyes closed. It’s better this way, he thinks. If they don’t speak to each other, they won’t fight. If they don’t fight, they might even get along. If they get along, they might start speaking to each other and if they start speaking to each other, Seungmin might fall for him all over again.

_Wait, what?_

“Okay!” Chan exclaims, clapping his hands and effectively yanking Seungmin out of his hare-brained thoughts. He looks up at the two of them, red sweatshirt seated beside a mustard one, and laughs. “You two look like a Happy Meal.” 

Seungmin scowls.

“Well, minus the happy,” Chan corrects. 

“So… a meal?” Jisung says a moment later, and struggles to hide a toothy grin when Seungmin groans exasperatedly. _Still the same rotten sense of humor too, apparently._

“Right, so anyway,” Chan clears his throat awkwardly, beckoning them to shift closer to him. He places his phone in the centre of the table and starts, “Seungminnie, I’ve marked your lines with purple, and Jisung, yours with blue. You can go over them if you want.”

Seungmin goes over the lyrics once, satisfied, and then hands the phone to Jisung. He takes a while longer, presumably to familiarize himself with the lyrics and then nods. “This seems okay, I think.” 

“Great,” Chan beams. “Why don’t you two go back home and read this once more to see if you want to change anything, and we can meet up some other time for practise?”

Jisung shrugs. “Sure, that sounds great.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Seungmin says, and watches as Jisung gives Chan a firm handshake before getting up to leave. He flashes Seungmin a barely there smile, pulls the hood over his ruffled hair and walks out without another word. Seungmin lets his eyes follow him till the large, wooden door falls shut behind him, and then lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. 

“Wow,” Chan breathes, breaking the silence. He gives Seungmin an amused glance. “What was that all about?”

Seungmin shrugs. “Jisung’s my ex,” he replies, and hopes his voice comes out as nonchalant as he had thought it did. He really doesn’t want Chan to make a big deal out of this; the less he’s reminded of Jisung, the better. Although it probably won’t be too easy anymore, now that he thinks of it, since him and Jisung were going to be singing a _duet_ together and would definitely have to meet up much too often for him to _not_ have him on his mind constantly.

Oh god, what had he gotten himself into? 

“I think that much was obvious,” Chan says, and then, before Seungmin can scowl, he adds quickly, “What I meant was, are you okay?”

His voice is gentle, genuine. Seungmin unclenches his fingers and trains his eyes on the rough wood of the table. “I think so,” he mumbles. “I was just a bit taken aback. Hyung,” he adds, looking up at Chan, “had Jisung really not known it was me he was going to be working with?”

Chan shakes his head. “I told you earlier, Seungminnie, there’s no way he could have. We only met a few days ago, he would never have guessed that I was talking about you.”

“But then why…?” Why had Jisung seemed unsurprised when he saw Seungmin, and how had he _still_ accepted to work with him for this? He didn’t even know Chan that well, so why had he decided to go along with this? He could’ve left, but he had chosen not to for some reason. 

Seungmin lets out a groan, resting his forehead beside his empty glass. “This is so confusing,” he complains to the table. 

The table does not respond but Chan does, giving his hand a little pat. “It’ll be okay, Seungminnie. Hyung’s guarantee.”

It’s only a few minutes later when Chan lets slip the million-dollar question that Seungmin has been dreading ever since Jisung walked out: “Seungminnie, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you and Jisung break up?

Seungmin flinches. He can choose not to answer, he knows, but a part of him finally wants to get this off his chest. He’s been quiet about it for a year now, kept it inside him like a painful splinter and it’s time to pull it out, he decides. After all, wounds can only heal once you start treating them.

He raises his head with a sigh and levels his eyes with Chan. “You won’t judge?” he asks seriously. 

Chan’s nod is reassuring enough and Seungmin finds the words reach the tip of his tongue with relative ease. Within minutes he’s done explaining about the one year internship Jisung had been offered at a relatively small American music label through their university. It wasn’t anything too big, just a little push in the right direction, but for a music fanatic like Jisung it would’ve made a world of difference. Both Seungmin and Jisung knew that. It was the perfect opportunity and yet–

“He wasn’t even accepting the offer,” Seungmin scoffs, picking at the lint on his sweatshirt. 

“What, why?” Chan asks, evidently confused. Despite having known Jisung for only a few days, it was obvious that even he could sense exactly how talented Jisung was, which only further proves Seungmin’s point: Jisung was incredibly stupid at times. 

“Because,” he can’t help but roll his eyes, although saying the words makes him feel warm all over, “he didn’t want to stay away for an entire year.”

“Stay away from what? Does his family live here or did he have a job…?”

“His family’s in Incheon,” Seungmin mutters and knows for a fact that his face is a lot more flushed than before.

“So why’d he want to stay in Seoul– Oh,” Chan’s eyes light up with realization, lips stretching into a grin. “Ohhh,” he repeats, wiggling his eyebrows. “I see.” 

“Hyung,” Seungmin whines.

“You’re blushing, though!”

“I’m _not_ ,” Seungmin snaps, kicking him lightly under the table. “I’m really not.”

Chan huffs out a laugh, throwing his arms up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s cute, though,” he says a moment later, and what throws Seungmin off is that he sounds completely serious, all the playfulness vanishing from his voice within seconds. 

“ _Cute?_ ” he repeats, eyeing his friend in disbelief. “It was downright stupid of him. If I hadn’t broken up with him, he wouldn’t have gone at all.”

Chan shrugs, placing his hands on the table. “Maybe. But he obviously loved you a lot if he was willing to give up something like that for you.”

Seungmin’s head shoots up in anger. “It’s not like I didn’t love him, either. The reason I did it in the first place was _because_ I loved him too much to let him throw away something–”

“Seungmin,” Chan cuts him off, tone soothing, “Of course you loved him. When did I say you didn’t? I’m just pointing out that it's evident how much love he had for you. And you for him, especially if that’s why you broke up.”

Chan’s last sentence makes Seungmin think of something else. For a minute he can only gnaw lightly at the inside of his cheek, tasting the words before he says them. And then finally, sucking in a breath he looks up at his older, much wiser, friend and asks something that’s been clawing at him for ages.

“Hyung,” he says, hesitant, “I did the right thing, didn’t I? By breaking up with him so he could go and study? It’s what’s best for him, isn’t it, hyung? I did the right thing?”

All the while he can only see Jisung’s face in front of him. Eyes rimmed red, chest heaving and hands clenched into fists so tight they might as well have been carved out of stone. _“Are you seriously going to do this, Seungmin?”_

He _had_ done the right thing, hadn’t he?

As if sensing his troubled state of mind, Chan sighs and shuffles closer to Seungmin, wrapping an arm around him. “There’s no right or wrong in this, Seungminnie. You had your reasons and they were obviously in what you thought were Jisung’s best interests. He might disagree, but he probably has his own reasons for that too.”

Something wet trickles down Seungmin’s nose and he curses under his breath. He wasn’t supposed to _cry_. And why was he worrying about something that was done and over with? Jisung had clearly moved on, he himself was doing okay as well, so really, what was there to cry about?

“It’s okay,” Chan says, his hand a gentle weight on Seungmin’s back. “It’s okay, Seungminnie. You’re allowed to feel whatever it is that you’re feeling. Emotions aren’t supposed to have a timestamp on them, okay?”

Seungmin nods. Still, he can’t but help but wish that Chan wasn’t always so right about everything.

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

A few days later Chan finally introduces him to Lee Minho. He’s unreal, at first glance; with skin shining like porcelain and eyes that glitter in the sunlight streaming in through the large windows. His voice is soft when he speaks, but his entire posture screams sharpness and precision unlike anyone he’s ever met before. The way Jisung’s jaw is sagging slightly beside him confirms that Seungmin isn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed by Minho’s otherworldly presence.

“So,” Minho begins, after pleasantries have been exchanged. He folds his hands carefully on the table that the four of them are seated at and regards both him and Jisung with a purely calculative look, as if just by glancing at them he can assess their entire being. It’s slightly unnerving, but Seungmin wills himself to stay still in his seat. “Hyung says you two can sing.”

Seungmin almost says something snarky in response before settling for a polite smile instead. “Yes, that’s why we’re here.” 

“God,” Jisung says under his breath, hardly audible, but Seungmin just manages to catch it. 

“Sing for me, then,” Lee Minho demands, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his unbelievably perfect nose. Something about him was seriously starting to piss Seungmin off. Did he expect them to just start belting out the lyrics in the middle of the bar? He glances at Chan as if to say, _“What the hell?”_

“Minho, let’s take them to the warehouse at the back, hm? Don’t want to scare off any customers,” Chan suggests lightly, breaking off with a slight chuckle. Nobody laughs, because well, _what customers,_ and it’s in a somewhat awkward silence that all of them traipse towards a door somewhere near the back and into a dimly lit room with too many boxes. It reeks of dampness and something else, making Seungmin wrinkle his nose. 

“Well,” Minho says, using an upturned crate as a seat, “can you sing now?”

“Uh, sure,” Jisung replies, exchanging a somewhat nervous glance with Seungmin. “Do you want us to sing together or…?”

Minho flaps his hands dismissively. “Anything’s fine. Just let me hear your voice, come on!”

“Oh, alright,” Jisung concedes and nudges Seungmin with his elbow. “What do you want to sing?”

Eventually they break out into an old B1A4 song they’d done a cover of way back in their early highschool days at Hyunjin’s 17th birthday party. It had been quite a feat, actually, Seungmin recalls, and the memory brings back a pleasant buzz. When he finishes singing, he can’t stop the small, satisfied grin that makes its way to his face and even contemplates high-fiving Jisung. But no, that would be too much, wouldn’t it. Just because they were on relatively civil terms didn’t mean he could go around acting as if they were _friends_ or anything, he reminds himself hastily, mentally chiding himself for even considering such a thing. 

“Well, I like his voice,” Minho says to Chan, a total of three minutes later, like Seungmin has suddenly stopped existing. “And his attitude,” he says about Jisung, who flashes him a quick finger-heart at the compliment. Minho blinks at the suddenness of it, before letting out a surprised laugh at the action, his sharp features softening into something pleasant. Seungmin feels a prickle of annoyance under his skin. They were here to work after all, weren’t they? Not fool around like a bunch of reckless college kids.

“Thanks,” he mutters finally, a beat too late. The words must have come out sourer than he had intended them to, because Jisung turns his head ever so slightly to look curiously in his direction. Even Chan seems a bit taken aback by the change in his demeanour. He straightens up and says quickly, voice almost coaxing as if speaking to a child, “Seungminnie’s been feeling kind of tired lately, right, Seungmin?” 

Seungmin feels his ears go red. He wasn’t Chan’s _kid_ for him to be going around making excuses for his unusual behaviour. He manages a stiff smile and says, “I’m sorry. Like Chan hyung said, I’m feeling a bit down.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” Minho reassures him, flashing a quick grin, “I’ll get you guys some drinks, okay? You can start practising here if you want.” In a moment, he’s gone, with Chan trailing after him to get his laptop for the instrumental they’d be using later on. 

“What’s up with you?” Jisung prods, the second it’s just the two of them alone. It’s the first time Seungmin has seen him since their last meeting and he’s evidently gone back to his old ways, as chipper as always, like the past year had never really happened; Seungmin can’t tell if he’s just choosing to ignore the elephant in the room or waiting for a better time to open up this discussion. He’s also unsure of which of the two options he prefers and the complications of it all annoy him endlessly. Maybe he should just move to Iceland and adopt an orca or something. 

“Hello,” his ex waves his hands in front of Seungmin’s face, “What’s wrong?” 

_Why does that matter to you_ , Seungmin almost mutters, spite bubbling somewhere deep down within him. Finally, he manages a quick “nothing” without sounding too off, pulling out his phone to get a look at the lyrics even though they’re practically engraved in his mind by now. 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Jisung comments, face scrunching up as he shifts closer to Seungmun to get a better look at his expression. The air fills with his scent, light and heady and Seungmin can’t help but inhale sharply. “You were fine before.”

“I’m still fine, thank you very much,” Seungmin snaps, unable to stop himself. Seriously, what did his mood have to do with Jisung anyway? 

Jisung lets out a laugh, sliding back to his original sport. Seungmin lets out the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding in. “Okay Mr Frowny Face,” he remarks, “So it’s nothing, you say, but you still look like someone stole your Melona again.” 

When Seungmin looks up, Jisung’s lips are stretched into a playful grin, the sunlight slipping in between the panels of glass dancing on his face and making him glow. It’s unreal and for a moment he can only stare, taken aback by both Jisung’s beauty _and_ the fact that he can so easily bring up past memories, like mentioning them doesn’t have an effect on him at all. 

It makes Seugmin’s stomach churn slightly; had Jisung really gotten over him, then, after a year apart? _Not that it matters_ , he tells himself. In fact, it’s a good thing, right? Both of them can meet new people this way, live different lives. Except, as much as he hates to admit it, the idea of seeing Jisung with someone else still makes his eyes burn and his heart clench painfully in his chest. 

“Wow,” Jisung says, breaking him free from his thoughts. “There really is something wrong, huh?” 

“No,” Seungmin replies, clearing his throat. His voice comes out firm and unwavering. “Everything’s fine.” 

“Okay then, give the audience a little smile. It’s getting depressing here,” Jisung grins, leaning back slightly and folding his arms, like some hot-shot film director. 

Seungmin scoffs, eyeing the pitiful attempt at a scarecrow placed in the far corner of the warehouse. “What audience,” he says. “Anyway, we’re supposed to be practicing. Get up.”

“Okay, _Seungmin_ ,” Jisung huffs, rolling his eyes. He shrugs his jacket off and sets it aside, unlocking his own phone to read the lyrics. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” he says, suddenly, eyes still trained on the screen, “It seems horribly ironic, doesn’t it?"

Seungmin stiffens. “What does?”

“I mean, this entire song,” Jisung shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s just funny, considering the fact that we’ve broken up.”

Seungmin manages a stiff smile. “Yeah,” he nods,“Very funny.” 

Jisung raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say much in response, letting out a quiet hum before turning to his phone again. “You want to start without the instrumental?”

“Mhm, let’s just see how we’ll go about this for now.” 

“Cool,” Jisung says, taking a few steps back and fixing Seungmin with a smile. “The stage is yours.” 

Seungmin rolls his eyes, forcing down the lump that’s suddenly clogging his throat. He can feel the back of his neck flushing, the weight of Jisung’s enough to unnerve him just a bit. _This is crazy,_ a part of him can’t help but think. It’s crazy that they’re doing this a year after a breakup that they both (or maybe it’s just him now because Jisung seems _okay_ ) still felt bitter about, and crazier still that Seungmin is feeling nervous about singing in front of _Jisung_ , the one person who probably knows him better than anyone else in the world. 

Or did, anyway. 

“Seungmin, fighting!” Jisung cheers, completely unaware of his inner turmoil. He’s still got that smile on, the one that would usually make Seungmin’s heartbeat slow down but now just seems like a deliberate test of how long he can survive in the same room as his ex-boyfriend without spiralling into madness. 

_Why're you being so nice to me,_ he wants to say, but he doesn’t. He squaffles the sudden urge to either punch Jisung or grab him by the neck and kiss– What? _No_. He shakes his head and glances once at the lyrics. “Okay,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “Okay, let’s go.” 

He starts his verse off quiet, letting it get louder and louder as he progresses. His voice comes out shaky at first, but within moments he’s found his original confidence, the one that fills him the instant his lips part and he loses himself completely to the words he’s singing. Five seconds meld into twenty-five, and soon enough he’s done with his first bit. He lets his eyes flutter open and turns to face Jisung, only to find him staring back at him with his mouth slightly agape and eyes wide open. 

“Uh,” Seungmin begins, ignoring the sudden warmth in his cheeks. “It’s your turn now,” he reminds Jisung, who still looks a bit dazed. “Jisung?”

“I forgot,” Jisung says blankly, almost as if he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. His eyes are wide and unfocused, like he’s in a trance, and in all honesty Seungmin finds it slightly worrisome. 

“Forgot?” Seungmin repeats, confused and also a bit concerned. “Forgot what? The lyrics or that it’s your turn or–”

“No,” Jisung cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, I meant– I forgot how you…” he trails off and abruptly looks away, face reddening as if he’s just realized what he’s been saying. “Never mind.”

Seungmin’s heart stops. “Forgot how I what?” he presses, eyes fixed on the other boy’s face. “Forgot how I _what_ , Jisung?” 

Jisung’s head snaps up. “I said never mind,” he mutters and then lets out a deep breath before hurriedly mouthing the lyrics again. 

_Wait_ , Seungmin wants to say, but the words stick to his throat and he can only watch in helpless silence as Jisung struggles with his phone. “I’m doing my part now,” he says abruptly and without any preamble, breaks into the next verse of the song. Despite his newfound irritation towards Jisung, Seungmin can’t help but appreciate how nearly flawless his delivery is, with the exception of him mispronouncing a word which he hastily corrects before continuing.

In a few seconds he’s done as well and Seungmin can’t help but nod approvingly in his direction. Jisung’s voice has grown stronger since he last heard sing, but he sings with a softness that can really only be found in him. Seungmin decides that no matter the current circumstances, he’s still pretty lucky to hear Jisung sing like that.

Satisfied with their performance for the time being, they continue singing back and forth, breaking off to point out each other’s mistakes or go over the lyrics once more. They only stop when Chan re-enters the warehouse, laptop in hand and Minho following closely behind with drinks for the two of them. 

“Have you been practising?” Minho asks, handing them a bottle each which they accept gratefully. 

Seungmin nods and seats himself on the plastic chairs Minho had suddenly pulled out for them. He takes a sip of the beer, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the taste. He’s never much liked beer. Jisung, on the other hand, is evidently enjoying it a lot more, his hands gripping the bottle firmly as he gulps the liquid down. 

“Hey, I think that’s enough,” Seungmin interjects out of both concern and sheer habit, watching Jisung down nearly half of it one go. He reaches for the bottle and pulls it away from him, placing it at his feet. “Let’s get back to work,” he says. Jisung lets out a whine of protest but doesn’t argue much, and within seconds he’s up and standing next to Seungmin. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can make out Minho eyeing the two of them curiously. It’s slightly unsettling, but Seungmin chooses to ignore it. If Minho truly found something unacceptable he could easily approach Seungmin, or even Chan if he wanted to, seeing as they were apparently really good friends. And then again, there was always the possibility that Seungmun was merely overthinking. After all, he tells himself, it isn’t uncommon to sneak glances at someone you’re not completely familiar with. 

He waits patiently for Chan to find the instrumental, humming under his breath. When Chan lets out a quiet “aha!”, he smiles and gives Jisung a nudge, and the two of them wait for the music to start playing so they can _really_ sing. 

He’s a lot more nervous than before because now they have an audience, even if it _is_ just two people. Still, it’s slightly nerve-wracking, and he sucks in a deep breath as the first few notes cut through the sudden silence in the air, before finally opening his lips and letting the words spill out of his mouth. His eyes fall shut of their own accord, automatically, and he misses the way Jisung’s eyes flit towards him in customary awe, the way Chan’s smile widens as he watches him and how Minho folds his arms as he listens, evidently pleased. 

And then his part is over and Jisung is singing in that incredible voice of his, completely filling the air around them. Seungmin wills himself to not sway on the spot, forces his eyes open and waits till it’s his turn to sing again. When Jisung stops, he notices both Chan and Minho exchanging impressed glances and Seungmin’s heart warms despite himself. He’s always felt oddly proud of others enjoying Jisung’s work nearly, if not just as much as him. 

Their voices meld into each other’s and before he knows it, the music stops playing and they’ve run out of words to sing. For a moment he stays rooted to his spot, slightly dazed, before realizing that they really did manage to sing the entire song in one go without making any mistakes. The joy of it settles in and this time he doesn’t hold back from giving Jisung a well-aimed high-five. It’s worth it, he decides, when he sees the sudden flash of surprise on Jisung’s face before it gives way to a smile that makes his eyes crinkle with the force of it. 

“Wow,” Minho observes, “that was pretty good.” He nudges Chan. “What do you think, hyung?”

Chan smiles. “I think it was great.”

“I can feel a ‘but’ coming,” Seungmin mumbles under his breath. 

“But,” Chan adds, and Seungmin sighs, “I think that near the end, you know that part–” he hurriedly repeats the lyrics, “you guys can sing that together, hm? Harmonize or something. It’ll really tie the whole thing together.”

Beside him, Jisung visibly tenses. “Oh,” he says, “Uh, okay.”

 _‘As if a guy like me never existed’_ . _That’s_ what Chan wants them to sing together? Seungmin silently begs the ground to open up and swallow him whole. When it doesn’t, he sucks in a breath and turns to Minho. “Is there a restroom here?”

If Minho’s surprised by the sudden question, he doesn’t show it. “Of course,” he says with a strange look on his face and begins walking. Seungmin follows him, ignoring the pair of eyes burning holes into the side of his skull as he walks past. 

“Is he okay?” he hears Jisung whisper to Chan, right as Minho moves to close the door behind them. The question makes him feel even more nauseous than before and he’s glad his face is half obscured in the shadows outside as they walk towards somewhere near the back of the bar. 

As they approach the bathroom stalls, Minho suddenly spins around to face him. Seungmin stumbles to a stop, almost bumping into the older man. “Is something wrong?” he asks, managing to keep his tone as civil as possible when all he really wants is to be alone for a few minutes. 

“You don’t really need to use the bathroom, though, do you?” Minho comments, straightforward and almost scarily matter-of-fact. 

“ _Excuse_ _me?”_ Seungmin replies incredulously, a little freaked out because _what the hell._

Minho shrugs and leans against the wall, the perfect image of nonchalance. For all he cared, they could be talking about the weather. “I’m not blind, you know,” he explains, “I saw the way the two of you act around each other. So, what is it? Some other guy? Unrequited love? But it can’t be, the way he looks at–”

“Excuse me,” Seungmin repeats, face aflame. “You have no right–”

“So you’re going to be okay with me asking him out, then?” Minho cuts him off coyly, eyes glittering. Seungmin clenches his fist to keep himself from landing a straight blow to the other man’s face. It’s maddening enough that Minho felt the need to offer his skewed observations on whatever had been going on between him and Jisung, but to say _that_.

“It’s none of your business,” he finally spits out.

“But if you two aren’t together, I can ask him out, right?” Minho presses. 

“No,” Seungmin snaps immediately, before he even realizes it. He blinks, taken aback by how fierce he had sounded. “No,” he repeats, less angry this time, and struggles to come up with a reason, “You can’t because– because he likes girls.”

That seems to do the trick because Minho falls completely silent, mouth hanging open. He’s quiet for so long that Seungmin almost starts feeling nervous. Had he been too harsh earlier? Minho _was_ older than him after all. And what if, as a consequence of his actions, he’d end up ruining Chan’s friendship with Minho as well? And then, right when Seungmin opens his mouth to diffuse the tension with an apology, Minho’s face scrunches up in the oddest of ways and he bursts into a peal of squeaky laughter, completely disarming Seungmin. “Oh my god,” he breathes, lightly slapping Seungmin’s shoulder. “Oh my _god._ You’re funny. You really are.”

Seungmin gawks at him in disbelief. _Funny?_ “I’m sorry, _what?_ ” he splutters, equal parts enraged and flustered. 

“Hey,” Minho straightens up when he finally stops laughing, shaking his head “I’m sorry if I came off as intrusive; I’m not usually like that, I swear. It’s just– there was something so off about you guys but at the same time you work so well together. I just found it intriguing. And also, you don’t have to _lie_ ,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, “because I’m not going to snag your boyfriend or friend or whatever–”

“My ex,” Seungmin interrupts with a shrug, surprisingly at ease with Minho now. “Jisung’s my ex.”

“Oh,” Minho nods, like that makes sense. “Of course. Well, anyway, don’t worry. I’m not _really_ interested in him or anything. I mean, he’s great and everything but I only just met him.” He raises an eyebrow, awaiting Seungmin’s response. 

“Oh, um. Cool,” Seungmin replies, a million times lighter than before. “Not that I care,” he adds hastily. 

“Of course you don’t,” Minho snorts, but offers him a strangely feline smile anyway. “Hey, by the way,” he says, suddenly somber, “if you don’t want to do the duet thing, I’ll call it off, really.”

Seungmin smiles. He’s already committed to this, and unless Jisung backs out – which he’s sure he won’t, at this point – then he’s going to go ahead with it no matter what. He tells Minho as much and it’s with a bounce in his step that he returns to the warehouse, his insides fizzing with something warm.

It’s much later, when he’s slipped under his duvet that Chan calls him to tell him that Jisung had been worried about his sudden departure and could he please text him to let him know that he was okay? Seungmin falls into stunned silence as his older friend speaks. Had Chan actually lost his entire mind? _Text Jisung?_ His _ex-boyfriend Jisung?_ Right. When pigs start flying, maybe. 

“Seungminnie, come on,” Chan pleads over the phone, “Isn’t it time to put your differences aside?”

Seungmin scoffs. “What differences? We’re perfectly fine, hyung. Didn’t you see us today?”

“If you’re _‘perfectly fine’,_ then why can’t you text him?” 

“Hyung, I haven't messaged him in over a _year_ ,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “And if Jisung’s so worried, why can’t he just message me himself?” 

Chan sighs in obvious disappointment, very much like Seungmin’s own mother when he forgets to call his grandparents on Saturday to give them a detailed itinerary of his week. “It’s just a message, Seungmin,” he exhales, “But fine, I’ll tell him, then.”

Seungmin really does hate it when Chan uses that tone with him. He knows it’s unintentional but _still –_ Chan should be aware of the effect his words have on Seungmin, sometimes. He presses his face into his pillow and screams. “Does that mean you’ll do it?” he hears Chan crackle over the phone, clearly amused, and screams once more before bringing the phone up to his ear. “I hate you, hyung,” he grouses with no real bite. “Love you too, Seungminnie,” his hyung replies. 

Rolling his eyes, he ends the call and swipes to his messages. He hadn’t blocked Jisung’s number because there really wasn’t any point, seeing as Jisung would be using an American number for the coming year anyway. Still, seeing his contact name (the one Jisung had saved himself) right at the bottom of his messages makes his heart constrict in his chest. It feels weirdly nostalgic; a year and a few months ago he was probably in the same position, holding his phone the same way and texting Jisung for completely opposite reasons. Back then, would he have ever imagined there would be a time where they wouldn’t be together?

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he shakes his head and begins typing. 

**To: THE BEST BF EVER 😎🤘**

**[7:28PM]** **_Hi. I made it home okay._ **

**[7:28PM]** **_Thanks for asking Chan hyung about me._ **

**[7:32PM]** **_Hope you reached home safely_ ** **.**

The last message he sends on a whim, and then wonders if he should've sent it at all. Would it come off as too weird? What would Jisung think when he eventually read it? He stares at the screen for so long, the words begin to blur. Blinking, he switches his phone off and sets it aside, closing his eyes and pulling his blanket over his head. It’s then that he realizes that he should probably change the stupid contact name as well, considering how sorely inapplicable it is now. 

He’s only just extricated his arm from his blanket when his phone starts ringing shrilly. Seungmin’s eyes bulge out of their sockets; Jisung hasn’t _called_ him, has he? He throws the duvet off his body and sits up, grappling for the device. Heart thumping wildly, he finally risks a glance at the caller ID. 

“ ** _hyunjinnie_ **”, it reads, and Seungmin exhales. He’s not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved or both as he slides his hand across the screen and accepts the call. 

Almost immediately, Hyunjin’s voice shatters the peaceful silence in his bedroom. Seungmin winces and pulls the phone away from his ear. 

“KIM SEUNGMIN,” Hyunjin screeches, loud enough for the windows to rattle. “HOW DARE YOU.”

“Hello, Hyunjin,” Seungmin replies, relatively calmly but also a bit freaked out. “What’s up?”

“ _WHAT’S UP? WHAT’S UP???_ ” Hyunjin breaks off, sucking in a deep, deep breath. Seungmin mentally prepares himself for what’s about to come next. It could be anything, really, when it came to Hyunjin. Maybe he’s upset because Seungmin _still_ hasn’t watched Hotel De Luna despite his endless requests, or maybe he’d caught Seungmin listening to his emo playlist again. Seungmin winces. What explanation does he have for _that?_

“How dare you,” Hyunjin repeats, voice quivering. “HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME THAT JISUNG IS BACK IN SEOUL? DO I MEAN NOTHING TO YOU–”

Seungmin pulls the phone away again and ogles the screen. How had he actually forgotten to tell Hyunjin? He glances morosely at the dog plushie on his bed. _Goodbye,_ he whispers, and presses his ear against the phone. “Hyunjin,” he begins, “I’m so–”

But Hyunjin is still screaming. “ _Hyunjin,_ I’m sorry I swear–”

There’s a sound of muffled anger and then a few incoherent yells and then another, much calmer voice is speaking. Seungmin nearly cries in relief. “Hey, hyung.”

“Seungminnie, you’ve really dug your own grave this time, haven’t you?” Changbin muses. Behind him, Hyunjin is still muttering angrily. 

“Tell him I’m sorry,” Seungmin pleads. “I really did forget.”

_“HOW DID HE FORGET TO TELL ME?”_

“You heard him,” Changbin snickers. “How could you forget to tell him, Seungmin?”

“It’s only been five days,” he argues, “I would’ve told him eventually–”

 _“FIVE DAYS?”_ he hears Hyunjin shriek. Even Changbin startles and Seungmin can distinctly make out a furious growl (Kkami, or Hyunjin? It’s hard to tell at this point, really) before Hyunjin successfully manages to yank the phone back from his boyfriend. 

“I will end you, Kim Seungmin,” he says, completely serious. Seungmin blanches. “Hyunjin,” he begins weakly. “I really am sorry.”

“He’s not kidding, Seungmin,” he hears Changbin pipe up in the distance (had he been put on speakerphone?) “He’s got a whole five-day murder plan ready. If I were you, I’d run.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, although he really wouldn’t put it past Hyunjin. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” he promises. “I’ll binge watch Hotel De Luna and we can have a three hour discussion when I’m done.”

“Make it four and I’ll consider it,” comes Hyunjin’s reply after a moment of contemplation. 

“Done,” Seungmin exhales in relief. “Anyway, yeah, Jisung’s back.”

Almost instantly Hyunjin’s entire demeanor changes. Seungmin can practically _see_ his eyes widening, hand on his heart as he pushes Changbin away to make himself comfy on the couch.

“Okay, I’m sitting now,” Hyunjin informs him and Seungmin smiles; he really does know Hyunjin too well. “Tell me, how’d he react? Was he angry? Did you guys talk about the breakup? Did you guys _fight?”_

Seungmin explains everything: Yes, Jisung was a little surprised. Yes, he was angry too. No, they did not talk about the breakup and no, they didn’t really _fight._ Seungmin would call it more of a squabble than everything. All in all, he decides, they aren’t really on the worst of terms right now. 

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin offers in response, and then, “Are you two really not going to talk about it? You know, we always thought you’d get back togeth– HEY, I’M _SPEAKING–_ ”

“Never mind what Hyunjin says,” Changbin’s voice comes out firm and steady. “You two should take your time.”

“Take our time with what?” Seungmin asks, exasperated. Hyunjin’s words are still ringing in his ears. Were people _waiting_ for them to start dating again, or what? “You guys don’t really think this is going anywhere, right? We’re just working on something together. And we didn’t choose to, either, it was purely coincidental. Tell Hyunjin not to get his hopes up about anything.”

He feels oddly pissed off for some reason. He and Jisung weren’t getting back together and it was aggravating that behind his back, his friends were discussing whether or not they would be. He wasn’t even sure if Jisung was back for good or not. And for all he knows, Jisung probably has a partner back in America. Seungmin clenches his fingers and wills himself not to think about it. It isn’t any of his business now, anyway. Not anymore. 

“Seungmim,” comes Hyunjin’s voice, almost timid. “I’m sorry. I think we – _I_ overstepped. You should do whatever you feel is right, okay? Just know we’ve always got your back no matter what. We love you.”

Seungmin can’t help but soften at that. Despite everything, even he knew his friends would only ever want what was best for him. “I know. Thanks, Jinnie. It means a lot,” he says honestly. 

The two of them keep talking aimlessly for the next hour or so, and it’s only when Kkami starts barking like mad, possibly annihilating Changbin as well, that Hyunjin reluctantly mutters a goodnight to him before ending the call. Seungmin sighs and puts his phone away again.

As much as he doesn’t want it to, his mind keeps wandering back to Hyunjin’s words. Did his best friend, the person who probably knew him better than anyone else now, really feel that he and Jisung still stood a chance? Despite everything that had taken place between them? He knows he shouldn’t let himself hope; Hyunjin hasn’t even met Jisung yet, hasn’t seen how he and Seungmin are around each other now, but Seungmin also knows that Hyunjin had been in contact with Jisung over the last few months. Maybe he knew something Seungmin didn’t which led him to believe that there _is_ a possibility of the two of them working it out. And yet, as far-fetched as it sounds, a part of him just can’t help but wonder.

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

Seungmin wakes up to four texts from Jisung: 

**From: jisung** (he’d changed the contact name the night before) 

**[9:47AM] ew why’re u typing like that**

**[9:47AM] also good to know!! I’m glad u made it home safe :)**

**[9:48AM] yep! i reached home safely too**

**[9:58AM] btw are we meeting for practise today?**

“What’re you smiling at?” his mothers asks suspiciously as she scours his room for any dirty laundry of his. Seungmin has told her countless times not to, that he’s a grown _man_ now, but she’s adamant. 

“Nothing. Just a cute photo of a dog,” he lies. 

“Ooh,” his mom says, leaning in. “Show me, too!”

“It’s gone. It was um– an ad.” 

His mother narrows her eyes suspiciously but leaves him be. “Come downstairs for breakfast soon,” she calls out as she leaves his bedroom, her feet shuffling on the floor outside. 

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

The next few days pass by in a blur. He, Jisung and Chan meet up frequently to practise in the warehouse.They meet the other performers as well; a boy named Jeongin with shiny eyes and a toothy grin who’d be performing a trot song. It’s undoubtedly surprising, especially considering the fact that Jeongin’s a year younger than him but apparently the younger boy has a love for trot that can only be rivaled by few. 

Another unexpected discovery is that Chan’s performing on Christmas Eve as well, with a fellow Australian boy he’d met at a PC-bang recently. 

“Hi! I’m Felix!” he introduces himself, with a smile so bright that Seungmin blinks. He can only stare in wonder for the next few seconds as Felix goes around the warehouse, acquainting himself with everyone else. It’s like a cluster of stars has fallen from the sky in the shape of a human boy.

“I’ve got a dancer and his boyfriend coming in later, too,” Minho announces, watching the five of them shuffle around. “They’ll be here in a bit.” 

Seungmin shrugs and goes to stand beside Jisung, who’s huddled in a corner with Chan with a laptop placed in front of them. When he approaches them, Jisung straightens up immediately, flashing him an unnaturally bright smile. “Hey!” 

“Hello,” Seungmin replies curiously, a bit taken aback at Jisung’s sudden spurt of joviality. “What’s up?”

“Nothing!” Jisung chirps, just as Chan looks up and says, “I’m helping Jisung with a few tracks of his.” 

Jisung blanches at Chan’s answer, suddenly very intrigued by the chipped paint on the wall. Seungmin turns to face him in surprise. “New music?” he asks, as lightly as he can; he doesn’t want to sound too enthusiastic in case Jisung doesn’t feel comfortable enough to talk about it with him. He knows already that the days where he’d be the first to listen to whatever new project Jisung would be working on were long gone. It’s upsetting but he’ll have to accept it at some point, anyway. 

“Yeah,” Jisung chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding Seungmin’s gaze. 

“Cool,” Seungmin tells him with a genuine smile. “I hope one day I can get to listen to them.”

Jisung’s eyes fly to him immediately, stunned. “Oh, yeah,” he says finally, and then with a much more _Jisung_ smile of his own he adds. “I’d like that.”

While Chan busies himself with the laptop, the two of them decide to practise by themselves, recording their progress on the phone. At this time of day, the warehouse is thrumming with life; there’s soft music playing in one corner, someone singing in another, and all the while Felix is prancing around with his arm slung around Minho, offering drinks to anyone willing to quench their thirst. 

It’s only a few minutes or so later that the door flies open and a voice that Seungmin has always only associated with school and home and Park Seojoon’s acting in Itaewon Class, cries out, “Hyung, we’re here!”

Jisung’s head snaps up at the same time as Seungmin’s, and the two of them swivel around to look, with bulging eyes, at the entrance where both Hyunjin and Changbin stand, beaming. The warehouse falls silent as Felix and Jeongin eye the arrivals with interest. Minho smiles and has only just begun walking towards them when;

“Hyunjin? Changbin hyung?” Jisung whispers, eyes wide. He seems to have finally stepped out of his reverie and is now staring fixedly at the two boys lingering in the doorway, jaw completely slack.

Hyunjin _screeches_ as he pins the familiar voice to a name, his head swivelling towards Jisung instantly. He pushes Changbin out of his way before racing in their direction. “Jisung!” he shrieks, completely ignoring Seungmin ( _thanks, Hyunjinnie_ , he thinks) and pulls him in for a bone-crushing hug. Seungmin rolls his eyes but his heartstrings are playing something oddly beautiful inside his chest at the sight of his best friend and _his_ best friend embracing. He knew Hyunjin would be delighted to see Jisung and a part of him is wholly glad that his and Jisung’s breakup hasn't affected their other friends’ relationship with each other. 

“Hyunjin, are you done?” Changbin deadpans an entire minute later, only half-joking. He seems unbelievably happy as well as he nudges his boyfriend aside to wrap his arms around Jisung. “Hey, Jisungie.”

“Fourth,” Jisung mumbles in response, his cheek pressed against Changbin’s shoulder. He looks so content; Seungmin hasn’t seen that look on his face for over a year, now.

“Hm?” Changbin hums in confusion. 

“This is the fourth hug you’ve given me, hyung,” Jisung explains, and if Changbin pulls away slightly teary-eyed, then no one mentions it. 

“What’re you guys doing here?” Seungmin asks the couple finally, when they’re done doting on Jisung like a new pet.

“We’re performing!” Hyunjin exclaims brightly. “Well, _I_ am. Hyung’s being a wuss.”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “He wants me to dance half naked on stage.”

“Not _dance_ ,” Hyunjin argues. “Just a body roll or two.”

“It’s _Christmas_ , Hyunjin,” Jisung splutters, eyes wide. 

“So! Look at these guns,” he boasts, attempting to roll up the sleeves of Changbin’s turtleneck to flaunt his muscles as if they were his own. He gives up a moment later, cheeks flushed with effort as the sleeves stay firmly in place. “Hyung works out _too_ much,” he preens, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze as Changbin gives him a dopey smile in answer. 

“Stop,” Seungmin warns. “Stop or I’ll throw up all over your coat.” 

Hyunjin striaghtens up at once. "Don't you dare," he hisses, "It's Burberry."

"Anyway, I’m going to go practise with Minho hyung,” he announces and bends to brush his lips against Changbin’s cheek. Jisung mimes retching behind him and Seungmin bites his tongue to keep himself from laughing out loud. 

“Wait, how do you know Minho hyung?” 

“Oh, I work here,” Hyunjin replies with a shrug. 

“How come we never saw you, then?”

“Depends on the timings, I guess. I work the morning shift on weekdays,” Hyunjin answers and with another shrug of his shoulders he’s walking away, boyfriend in tow.

“They haven’t changed at all, have they?” Jisung muses, watching them with a fond smile. “It’s like I never left.”

Seungmin can feel the smile slipping off his face at the last sentence. _They_ might not have changed after Jisung left but a whole lot of other things have. He tries not to grimace as he mutters, “Yeah. They haven’t changed a bit.”

Jisung frowns, shifting so he can glance at Seungmin. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replies offhandedly. “Anyway, practise time. Let’s go.” 

Jisung rolls his eyes but follows him to their self-designated corner, anyway. “Alright, Kim Seungmin-ssi. Let’s practise.” They call Chan over to provide them with the instrumental _and_ monitor them. He appears with the laptop, Felix tagging along with his dazzling smile. 

“You have very pretty voices,” he beams, in his slightly accented Korean when he and Jisung finish their practice round, and the two of flash him a grateful smile. Felix seems to be made out of goodness. 

“Hey,” Chan pipes up suddenly, when they’re halfway through the second verse. “Are you two going to stand like that the entire time you’re going to be singing?”

Jisung frowns. “Should we sit, then?”

Chan shakes his head. “No, no, that’s not what I meant.” He takes a step closer to them and sighs, pulling out his phone. “Look,” he points out, showing them the video he’d made of them earlier. “Your delivery is flawless, but the two of you are standing so awkwardly. You’re barely looking at each other! There should be _some_ interaction between you two!”

Seungmin glares at his friend. Had he _forgotten_ his and Jisung’s past relationship to be suggesting that? To look at Jisung while belting out the lyrics to a song that was literally about a break-up? He’d rather die. He grimaces and looks away, telepathically telling Chan to shut up. Either Chan receives his message and simply does not care enough to do anything about it, or Seungmin isn’t a good enough telepath, because Chan is still giving the two of them a hopeful look. Finally, he gives up and starts kicking lightly at the ground with his sneakers, unable to find anything to say in response. 

Jisung seems to be struggling to come up with a suitable reply as well, his face now remotely resembling a freshly plucked beet-root. “Um,” he stutters, eyeing Chan nervously, “I guess we could give it a shot? I don’t know; I’m not very good with all that stage-related stuff,” he breaks off with a skittish chuckle, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. 

Immediately, Seungmin straightens up and pins him with a fierce look. “Shut up,” he snaps automatically. 

“What–”

“You’ve always been good at it and you _know_ that. Our play in 7th grade, everyone voted you as the best dwarf, right? Even though there were like, a hundred of us. And in high-school when we had to do that infuriating karaoke thing for Mr Park’s class, weren’t _you_ awarded _‘Most Likely To Be A Star_ ’? First semester of uni,” he continues, slightly breathless. Jisung’s staring at him with an unreadable look on his face but he can't be bothered at this point. 

“First semester,” he repeats, “who was offered the dream internship that everyone was after? It was you, wasn’t it? So just _stop_. Stop underestimating yourself all the damn time. You’re miles better than you think, and I know that for a fact because I’ve been there to witness it.” He finishes with a heavy exhale, heart racing a mile a minute. He hadn’t even realised how worked up he’d gotten, but he can feel it now in the way his hands are clenched so tightly together and in the tense set of his jaw. “Sorry,” he mutters, loosening his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have yelled, but I’m serious. You have to realise that by now, Jisung. You _have_ to.” 

“Okay,” Jisung says a moment later. He still looks slightly put out and Seungmin isn’t sure if it’s just the light dancing on his face or Jisung’s eyes are actually a bit wet around the edges. “Okay, Seungmin. Thank you.” He gives him a small smile and adds, just as Seungmin’s about to start looking for Chan, (who had apparently slunk away during the entire debacle), “And by the way, those things– they only happened because all that time, I just had the greatest partner to help me through it all.”

“No–”

“I think,” Jisung continues, cutting him off, “that you should give yourself a little more credit as well, okay?”

Seungmin looks at him in stunned silence. His insides feel like they’ve been doused in a cup of honey and he feels weirdly numb all over. Why did Jisung _always_ have to leave him so dumbfounded. He grapples for words to say but all that comes out is a meek “thank you” before he determinedly avoids Jisung’s gaze. 

“Oh, hey,” Chan appears, sheepish. “Just went to get a drink while you two, um, caught up with your school life.” He gives an awkward little chuckle and then says, “Should we continue from where we left off?” 

“You ask like we have a choice,” Seungmin grumbles but shuffles to stand a bit closer to Jisung anyway. “How do you want us to do it?” 

Chan gives them vague instructions as to how they should go about it but mostly he just keeps stressing over and over on “letting it come naturally”. What exactly is _natural_ about this, Seungmin wants to stay, but he purses his lips and tries to meet Jisung’s eyes. Almost immediately he regrets it, because if there’s one thing that will always make him weak around the knees, it’s Jisung’s eyes. 

_Focus,_ he tells himself. 

Chan gives them a thumbs up and then walks over to his laptop to let the instrumental play. The first few attempts are awkward; Jisung is as tense as a taut string, and that is to say _very_. Everytime Seungmin looks at him, his entire body goes rigid and then he looks away abruptly, muttering hasty apologises. Seungmin would find the reddening ears and blush on his face a lot more amusing if they weren’t running out of time; it was already ten and they hadn’t made any progress whatsoever. 

“Jisung,” he sighs, exasperated. “Look at me.”

“I _am,_ ”Jisung stutters, throwing up his hands. He’s completely red now, and it really is a bit endearing. 

Seungmin shakes his head, stepping closer. “No, you’re not,” he says firmly. He bends just a little so that Jisung’s eyes are level with his own. “I won’t _bite_ you, why do you look so scared?”

Jisung scowls, folding his arms stubbornly. “Who said I’m scared?” he grouches, finally meeting Seungmin’s eyes. “Let’s do it, then. Hyung, play the instrumental again, please.”

Chan does as he’s told, and a moment later, the familiar chords hang in the air and Seungmin finally lets himself relax. He sings his part and then Jisung sings his, and it’s only when they reach the chorus that he opens his eyes to look at the boy beside him.

He’s wholly unprepared, he realizes a beat later, when Jisung looks up at him with eyes that are glittering even in the dim lighting of the warehouse and a smile that seems to be spun out of pure sunlight. He’s singing, but Seungmin can hardly make out the words because his own heartbeat is ringing in his ears and it shouldn’t be this hard, but it is. There’s butterflies in his stomachs, he realizes belatedly, feeling lightheaded. For a moment it’s like he’s back in 6th grade again, sneaking glances at his best friend as they work on their year-end Science project. A beat later, he’s in 8th grade and Jisung is handing him a bright pink, heart-shaped box of chocolates with a shy grin because “Valentine’s day is for everyone you love, right?” Two verses left and he’s holding hands with Jisung on their way back home as the sun sets behind them and the world falls silent. Bridge, chorus, last verse, and Jisung is brushing his lips against his for the very first time in a dingy arcade and Seungmin thinks he finally understands what his sister meant when she said _“you just know”._

There’s dread pooling in the pit of his stomach as he finally tears his eyes away from the boy who he had given everything to, and the boy who had given him everything back tenfold, and he realizes that he does know, after all, although he desperately wishes he didn’t. 

Because here’s the truth as plain as day: The sky is blue, the grass is green, the wind blows and Kim Seungmin has fallen for Han Jisung all over again.

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, despite everything, Seungmin gets roped into going out to buy food for the rest of them after practise. And it would be fine, really, had Hyunjin not suggested, immediately afterwards in honeyed tones: “It’ll be too much for you to carry alone, though, wouldn’t it, Seungminnie? I think someone else should accompany you.” He had batted his eyelashes innocently, saccharine sweet smile on full display, before engaging everyone in a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to determine who else would be going with Seungmin. 

Seungmin doesn’t know whether to chalk it down to his awful luck or the fact that Jisung has just always been ridiculously terrible at the game, because not even a minute later the two of them are pushed out of the warehouse by a much too gleeful Hyunjin and an equally amused Changbin. Part of him can’t help but wonder if this had been Hyunjin’s doing all along; had he somehow managed to rig such a harmless game just so he could have Seungmin and Jisung live out one of his fantasies (i.e: spend some time together – _alone.)_? Seungmin wouldn’t put it past him. 

“I really thought I’d gotten better,” Jisung muses, sparing a glance at the door that was just slammed shut behind them by their traitorous friend. 

Seungmin scoffs, too overwhelmed to say anything else. Of course, _of course_ he’d ended up with Jisung, right after he’d had the same revelation for the second time in his life. He furiously conjectures what criminal act he had committed in his past life to deserve this – to fall for the same person not once, but _twice._ Luckily for him, though, the fried chicken place Minho had recommended was only a few minutes’ walk away, and Seungmin doesn’t bother trying to fill in the silence between them. Neither does Jisung, who appears to be busy soaking in their surroundings, occasionally letting out a quiet sound of surprise if he spotted something even mildly amusing. 

“Have you never been here before?” Seungmin finally blurts out, watching Jisung gape at storefronts that really didn’t seem even remotely exciting. Jisung glances at him, confused, his eyes luminous circles above his mask. “Of course I have. In fact, _we’ve_ been here before, remember? During the summer in freshman year? Your mom bought us lollies,” he breaks off with a small smile, eyes crinkling. 

Seungmin can’t help but offer a tiny smile as well. He’s surprised Jisung even remembers, because he himself had totally forgotten about that trip. Reminiscing about it now feels weirdly nostalgic; it seems like an eternity ago. What strikes him as strange, though, is that out of all people, it’s Jisung who is bringing it up now. He doesn’t know what to make of it, so he focuses instead on scanning the area around them for any signs of the small restaurant Minho had mentioned. 

They find it minutes later, tucked in a corner of the street right beside a desolate convenience store with a faultly sign that blinks every so often. Jisung places the order, engaging in polite conversation with the old man behind the counter, and grins in delight when he’s offered a discount simply for being “so charming”. Seungmin rolls his eyes; he’s not surprised at all. Jisung has always had a way with the elderly – and people in general, he supposes. It’s just been proven difficult, numerous times, to resist that sunny smile. He knows that better than anyone. 

“Hey,” Seungmin says, suddenly remembering that Hyunjin had been pestering him for _ages_ to get him a pack of his favourite chips, “I have to buy something for Hyunjin. I’ll only be a minute.”

Jisung looks up from the menu card he’d been holding in surprise. “Where, though?” 

Seungmin points to the convenience store next door and Jisung smiles. “I’ll come with!” he offers immediately, tightening his grey muffler around his neck. “What about the food?” Seungmin points out but Jisung has an answer ready. “It’ll take around fifteen minutes! We have time.” And with a toothy grin he pushes open the door and walks outside, leaving Seungmin staring after him, slightly breathless. 

The door to the store opens with a jingle, and Seungmin absentmindedly notes the small bell fixed on top of the doorframe. He follows Jisung inside, watching as the girl behind the counter perks up in sudden interest at their entrance. Seungmin can’t blame her; it’s nearing eleven and he’s certain that he and Jisung are probably the only two customers present in the little establishment. He leaves Jisung at the entrance and trails to the back where he assumes the snacks will be, scanning the shelves for Hyunjin’s requested pack of chips. It only takes him a few minutes, but by the time he’s walking back to the counter, Jisung has already managed to chat up the cashier and is now nodding fervently in ageeement at something she said with a large smile on his face. 

Fighting down the sudden spark of irritation he feels, Seungmin clears his throat to announce his arrival, and watches in slight annoyance at how quickly the two of them straighten up. The girl looks oddly flushed and Jisung’s cheeks are definitely a lot pinker than Seungmin remembers them. He swallows the sudden bitterness in his mouth and pulls out a few notes, handing them to the girl with a word of thanks, and walks out without a receipt, bag swinging in his hand. Jisung shows up a moment later, panting. “Thanks for waiting,” he deadpans, and Seungmin shrugs. “Didn’t want to bother you two,” he replies casually, although he doubts Jisung can’t make out the twinge of irritation in his voice. “So,” he adds, before Jisung can say anything in response, “did you manage to get her number?”

Jisung freezes. “Whose?” 

Seungmin exhales sharply in annoyance, fingers tightening around the bag. “The girl you were flirting with, just now. Moments ago, in fact. _Her_ number.” 

Instead of floundering or red-facedly denying Seungmin’s claim like he had expected Jisung to, the older of the two lets out a laugh of pure surprise. “I wasn’t _flirting_ ,” he replies, incredulous, smacking Seungmin’s arm. His eyes twinkle with amusement when he shakes his head. “You’re crazy.” 

“You were,” Seungmin snaps, ignoring the sudden tingling he feels at Jisung’s touch. He’s more annoyed at the fact that Jisung seems to be making jabs at his observation, which he knows for a fact is correct. 

“I wasn’t,” Jisung replies, easily. They’re outside the restaurant now, but neither of them make any move to step inside and eventually Jisung just plops down on the plastic bench near the entrance. Seungmin follows him reluctantly, slightly pissed off. “I wasn’t,” Jisung says again, playfully.

“Then what were you two laughing about the entire time?” He asks, despite himself. He can feel the color rise to his cheeks, and it’s so _embarrassing_ that he’s sitting here and questioning his _ex-boyfriend_ about who he’s flirting with, of all things. It’s not his business at all, but Jisung seems to find it amusing and grins. “We were talking about how cute you were,” he says easily. 

Alright. Grass is blue, then. 

Seungmin merely snorts, not believing him for a second. Still, he won’t deny that he’s grateful for the dark so Jisung can’t make out his rapidly reddening ears. “Sure you were.”

Jisung shrugs and tips his head upwards to stare at the sky. “We really were. Actually, she only said so because she thought we–” he breaks off with a slightly nervous laugh, eyes on the ground now. “Well. It doesn’t matter.”

Seungmin glances quizzically at him, ready to ask him to complete his statement, but Jisung has moved on already and says, lips quirked in a smile, “I’ll have you know, by the way, that I’ve only ever flirted with three people in my entire life. That’s a fact!”

Despite himself, Seungmin almost laughs. “Sure,” he mutters sardonically, “and Hyunjin has eggplants for breakfast.” Jisung remains unbothered, leaning back into the bench. “It’s true. The first one was Hyunjinnie, you know? I’d tease him all the time in middle school – it was fun.” 

Seungmin nods reluctantly; even he remembers that. Jisung and Hyunjin’s friendship had been a source of entertainment for all of them, especially with the way Hyunjin would get so worked up and Jisung would be reduced to nothing but a fit of giggles every time their older friend would walk out in a huff. “Alright,” Seugmin concedes finally, “who was the second?”

At this, Jisung’s eyes light up, mirrorring the stars above. “You’ll remember this one, too,” he remarks, grinning, and Seungmin hums, slightly curious. “It was the guy at the arcade – Rowan, I think?”

“The one with the red hair?” Seungmin exclaims, and this time he really can’t hold back his laugh. “You flirted with him, too? _Why?”_

Jisung gives him a playful nudge, but he’s laughing too. “Hey, he wasn’t all that bad. I feel terrible now, actually, because I was only flirting with him to make _you_ jealous.” 

The laughter in his throat dies down and Seungmin glances at him, a bit thrown-off. To make _me_ jealous?” he repeats. His voice comes out softer and slightly hesitant, and he hopes that Jisung isn’t paying enough attention to note the sudden shift in his demeanour. It’s just baffling, really, how easily Jisung can say these things without even a second thought, whereas the effect it has on Seungmin unsettles him greatly. 

Jisung nods, slightly bashful. “Yeah, I had like, the biggest crush on you, then, remember?” He grins and folds his arms. “But it paid off eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean. I _did_ kiss you then, didn’t I? Right in the stupid arcade,” he chortles a little and then lets his eyes meet Seungmin’s. They’re impossibly bright even in the scant moonlight that illuminates the area. “So, Rowan was the second person. Aren’t you curious about the third?”

Seungmin shrugs, but he already knows who it is. And sure enough; “The third one was you. Although…” he trails off, eyeing Seungmin with a playful glint in his eye, “you never really realized, did you? Silly Kim Seungmin – we would’ve been dating for _a lot_ longer if you’d just used your brain a little.” 

Although he really should be getting used to Jisung’s offhanded remarks, there’s still a tightness in his throat. He swallows it and turns to face Jisung, letting out a snort. “Of course,” he grouses with little heat, “ _that’s_ my fault, too.”

“Well, it is!” Jisung replies indignantly, though he seems to be enjoying this. “How could you not have realized?” 

Seungmin huffs exasperatedly. “Well, for starters, it’s hard to tell when you’re flirting with someone because you give compliments so openly, anyway. And I didn’t know whether you meant what you said romantically or platonically, you know?”

Jisung frowns. “How is _‘I think I like you’_ platonic?” He asks, a little perplexed himself. 

“I don’t know!” Seungmin scowls and looks away. What was Jisung playing at, anyway, talking about his old crush on Seungmin? Was it really so insignificant to him now that he could just bring it up whenever he wished, like it was a silly little memory that he could relive any time he pleased without considering the effect it might have on Seungmin? He was beginning to find it slightly suffocating. “Whatever,” he mutters, and stands up. “I bet the food’s ready now.” He starts walking without sparing Jisung another glance and pulls out his wallet. Sure enough, the food is ready and bagged for them when he enters, and Seungmin bows in thanks to the owner before handing him the money and leaving with the meal.

Jisung is still outside, waiting for him when he steps out of the restaurant. He shifts a little when Seungmin passes him and then says, a little meek, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.” 

Seungmin shrugs wordlessly. What was there to say; I wish I could move on like you? “It’s fine,” he mumbles, slowing down a little so Jisung can walk beside him with ease. Jisung offers him a tiny grin and reaches for one of the bags, easily sliding it out of Seungmin’s hand.

“You know,” he says suddenly, “Hyunjin was telling me earlier that he thought we’d get back together.”

Seungmin stops, or maybe the entire world does. He isn’t sure. “What?” he says, facing Jisung, who almost childishly refuses to meet his gaze. His insides feel like acid and he can sense it, the anger beginning to bubble somewhere deep inside. Hadn’t he asked Hyunjin not to say anything of that sort to Jisung? 

“I know, right?” Jisung laughs, but it isn’t his usual laugh. This one’s a lot more forced, a lot more awkward, and his eyes are dull when they finally meet Seungmin’s.

“Why would he say that?” 

“I don’t know– are you _mad?”_

“Of course I’m mad,” Seungmin spits out. “Why shouldn’t I be, when people are constantly making assumptions on what my relationship with you is?”

“Seungmin–”

“It’s not _funny_. They’re my feelings and we’re real people, not characters in a drama that Hyunjin watches and can hope will end up together by constantly saying so.” He can feel the tears in his eyes, hot and angry, and he blinks them back furiously. 

“He wasn’t– _Seungmin,_ he was just –”

“Stop defending him!” Seungmin snaps angrily. "We broke up, didn’t we? Why can’t he accept that?”

For a moment, Jisung just stares at him with unblinking eyes. And then his face hardens and his mouth flattens into a straight line. “Right,” he says quietly, taking a step back. “Right. We broke up.”

Seungmin blinks, taken aback by the sudden hostility in Jisung’s tone. “What–” 

“But,” Jisung continues, cutting him off, “I think Hyunjin was just foolish enough to believe, like me, that there’d still be a chance of _this–”_ he gestures between the two of them, voice quivering slightly “–still working out.”

Seungmin freezes completely, the anger fizzling out within seconds. His eyes fly over Jisung’s face, to gauge his expression, to at least _try_ to understand what the _hell_ Jisung had meant by that, but he’s already turning away, shoulders squared. 

“Jisung, _wait_ – What do you mean?” he presses, but Jisung just keeps walking, bags clasped firmly in his hand and Seungmin realizes, with a bitter taste in his mouth, that that’s all he’s going to get for now. He ignores that odd, sinking feeling in his chest, the ringing in his ears and retraces the steps to the warehouse, the silence too loud for him all of a sudden. 

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

Maybe all of them had noticed the blank looks on their faces when they returned, or the way they determinedly avoided each other’s gaze and hardly spoke, but it’s only Hyunjin who pulls him aside much later, after Jisung, Jeongin and Felix have left, and it’s just the five of them that remain. He asks, in a hushed whisper, as the lights in the warehouse dim,“ What happened between you and Jisung?” Seungmin almost laughs; because well, to put it simply, what happened between him and Jisung was this: they broke up, and they were never getting back together, so maybe Hyunjin should finally leave them be. 

What comes out, however, in an angry hiss, is this: “What the _hell_ were you trying to do, Hyunjin? What the hell is your problem, and why do you always, _always_ have to try and fix everything?”

The hand Hyunjin had placed on his shoulder earlier slips off and he takes a step back, blinking in alarm. “What are you–”

“That night when you called me, didn’t I tell you that Jisung and I were only working together? That there was– _is_ nothing between us? Why don’t you ever _listen–_ ”

“Seungmin, I don’t know what you’re talking–”

“Oh,” Seungmin lets out a derisive laugh, stifling the near-manic scream that is resting in the base of his throat. “You don’t _know?_ Are you sure, Hyunjin? Are you sure you didn’t tell Jisung that you thought he and I would quote unquote ‘ _get back together?’_ Didn’t you tell him that?” 

“I only said–”

“It doesn’t _matter_ what you said,” Seungmin snaps harshly, pushing him away. “It doesn’t matter, because now Jisung’s mad and whatever you were trying to do is never going to happen, so can you please just leave me alone now?” 

Hyunjin’s face falls and the hand on Seungmin’s shoulder now hangs limply by his side. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy, but Seungmin can’t find it himself to care. He’s rightfully upset, and it’s time Hyunjin understood that. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Seungmin. I just thought– I missed seeing you guys happy–”

Seungmin lets out an empty chuckle, shaking his head. “Do we seem happy _now_ , Hyunjin?”

“You were happy before,” Hyunjin argues, forehead creased. “You were happiest with each _other_ –”

“Stop–”

“And I think,” he adds, voice firm all of a sudden. In fact, he seems almost angry now, “that you’re both stupid for not talking about it again and getting your shit together, because you’re clearly not over him and he’s clearly not over _you.”_

“You can’t just make assumptions like that,” Seungmin snarls, overwhelmed. He’s so _angry_ at the unfairness of it all. How did Hyunjin get to stand and lecture him about this when he was the reason he and Jisung were now having their first, post-breakup fight?

“It’s not an assumption, it’s a _fact_ ,” Hyunjin snaps back, equally enraged. “And anyone with two eyes can see that.”

“Shut up,” Seungmin says instead and finally pushes Hyunjin off him, his head spinning.

“You’re being stupid. Both of you,” Hyunjin mutters, his voice an octave lower than before. He sounds a bit defeated, and Seungmin feels some of the anger leave his body. Despite everything, he can’t ever stay mad at Hyunjin for long, especially when deep down he knows that everything Hyunjin does is only out of the goodness of his heart and with the purest intentions, even if sometimes the result is a little bit skewed. 

Seungmin exhales quietly, fixing his gaze on the empty bottles on the ground. “He’s moved on, Hyunjin. I don’t think there’s a lot you can do about that.” He says finally, but even as the words leave his mouth, he knows that they’re not completely true; Jisung’s voice rings in his ear, and the foolish part of him that still clings onto even the tiniest shred of hope can’t help but wonder if Jisung still feels something for him. 

“Have you?” Hyunjin asks, turning to face him. “Have you moved on, Seungmin?”

Seungmin refuses to look up, feeling the lump in his throat grow bigger and bigger with every passing second. He hadn’t ever realize he could _feel_ so much, so many things, all at the same time. 

“I just think,” Hyunjin adds, stepping closer to him. His voice is a lot more gentle now, almost dulcet, when he says, “When you love someone you give them pieces of yourself; that’s why you never really stop loving them in the first place. And I guess, that’s the scariest thing about love, isn’t it? That it’s infinite; even when you don’t want it to be.”

His words hang in the air for a few long moments, before Seungmin forces himself to snort, blinking back tears. “Since when did you get so philosophical?”

Hyunjin shoots him a dimpled smile, shoulders relaxing slightly in relief. “I always have been,” he declares, “I’m just special like that. And better still, Changbin hyung loves that about me.”

“Ergh,” Seungmin groans, wrinkling his nose in feigned disgust. “You guys are _gross_.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin giggles, “We really are.” He wraps an arm around Seungmin, lightly pressing his body against his. “I’m sorry,” he adds softly. “You’re right; I shouldn’t have interfered at all and I promise – I _really_ promise, this time – that I won’t meddle anymore.”

Seungmin hums and allows his friend to hold him close for a while. The hug is short lived though, because only moments later Hyunjin is pulling back and gazing sternly at Seungmin. “That being said,” he continues quickly, “I still think you two should talk it at least over once. You’re a bit of a mess.” 

“Okay,” Seungmin agrees, half to get Hyunjin off his back and half because he can’t help but admit that a conversation with Jisung was long overdue, anyway. He gives his friend a firm squeeze. Okay, he thinks. He’ll talk to Jisung for sure. 

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

He doesn’t talk to Jisung, but only because he doesn’t have _time_ to. The next few days meld into one another seamlessly, so quickly that Seungmin is half convinced his calendar might be wrong. But no, his calendar is perfectly fine and soon enough, it’s already the 23rd of December and there’s only a day left till the actual Christmas showcase or whatever Chan was calling it now. Seungmin still finds it hard to believe that in a set list (of sorts) comprising solely cheerful, energetic performances, he and Jisung would be performing a song full of yearning and everything else that strongly contradicted the true spirit of Christmas. 

Speaking of Jisung, Seungmin had been all too prepared to deal with a sullen, colder version of his ex-boyfriend, but maybe it was the festive mood that Chan was hell-bent on shoving down their throats, or maybe it was something else entirely, but Jisung, despite their argument a few days ago, gradually begins warming up to him again. Clipped responses give way to amiable words which morph into small, fleeting smiles and eventually, he and Jisung fall back into their usual (but slightly awkward) push-and-pull. Hyunjin, true to his word, doesn’t say anything, but sometimes Seungmin can see him exchange knowing glances with Changbin and he wonders what the two of them must be thinking _now_. 

Fortunately for his friends, he doesn’t have much time to dwell on their latest verdict. After their final rehearsal, Minho calls them to the bar for a few drinks. “On the house!” he beams, like he hadn’t been giving them free drinks for the past few days, anyway. Still, all of them cheer loudly, and Chan, even in his pre-inebriated state, plants a playful kiss on Minho’s cheek, grinning when the other hisses and pushes him away only half heartedly. It’s funny, watching them like that, and Seungmin smiles. He feels pleasantly buzzed, even though he has yet to consume the bottle of alcohol in his hands.

His eyes wander around the bar, settling first on his closest friends; Hyunjin and Changbin are swaying to a beat that can hardly be heard over the dull din of everyone’s voices, arms wrapped loosely around each other. But then again, Seungmin thinks, they’ve never really needed music to dance like that, anyway. He looks away just before his heart softens into something embarrassingly unlike him, and glances instead at Jeongin and Felix, who are seated beside Minho and Chan, all four of them engaged in what seems to be a heated argument about what kind of weather is best for a picnic. 

“Rainy days,” Felix is insisting, hands planted on the table. Chan looks mildly upset as he argues that the rain would make the sandwiches soggy, and then a somber-looking Jeongin points out that “umbrellas _do_ exist, you know,” and wasn’t it possible for him to eat cup ramyun once in a while? The only person who looks slightly disinterested is Minho, but there’s a quirk to his lips as he watches the three of them battle it out. Seungmin is just struggling to believe that this is a _serious_ conversation that they seem to be having, but he chooses not to part-take in it; the less he knows, the better. And anyway, there’s something else – or _someone_ else, a traitorous and very self-aware part of him reminds – that he’s looking for. 

He finds him only moments later, sitting cross-legged on a chair by the large window, fingers curled around a bottle. His token white Champion beanie covers a bit of his forehead, but a few stray strands of black hair manage to escape anyway, resting casually above his brows, and his other hand is gripping his phone as he idly scrolls through it. Ignoring that irksome tug in his chest again, Seungmin starts making his way to the person he’d been seeking the entire time. 

Jisung doesn’t see him at first, eyes trained on his phone, but he probably hears the light footfall because his eyes flick up and widen slightly, and he hastily slides the device into his pocket. “Hi,” he says, a little surprised, and then moves so Seungmin can settle comfortably beside him. 

“Hello,” Seungmin replies, giving him a quick glance. The feeble lighting overhead seems brighter, suddenly. “Not joining the party?”

Jisung shakes his head. “Not today,” and then after a brief moment, “Today’s a Sponge Day,” he explains, and his eyes crinkle as he smiles because he knows Seungmin gets it – in middle school, and then whatever came after, Sponge Days were days when Jisung’s personal powerbank was closer to half-empty than full. He doesn’t realize he’s smiling too, till he catches his distorted reflection in the glass bottle and he wills his lips to flatten. 

“Oh,” he offers, and then says, “Tomorrow won’t be a Sponge Day, will it?” Because tomorrow’s the showcase and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Jisung is subdued and quiet. 

Jisung shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. He recoils slightly before answering. “Tomorrow might be the biggest Sponge Day of them all.” 

_Why,_ Seungmin almost asks, but Jisung answers the unsaid question himself. Soulful, brilliant eyes flick towards his, and he says very honestly, like he’s speaking Gospel, “It’s because I don’t know when I’ll next see you.”

The moments that follow are a bit like this: he stares at Jisung, and Jisung stares back. There are words in his mouth that don’t come out because he’s not even sure they exist. The world has stopped once more and there’s that terrifyingly familiar feeling in his chest again, the kind that makes the air in his lungs constrict. For a moment, he’s not even sure he’s breathing, and then very slowly, Jisung leans forward and Seungmin feels his eyes flutter shut, and something as soft as a summer zephyr brushes against the skin of his cheek. 

“See you tomorrow, Kim Seungmin,” Jisung says easily after he pulls back, like he hasn’t left an entire garden to bloom in Seungmin’s chest. With a small wave and a painfully familiar smile, he slides out of his seat and walks out of the bar, his muffler flapping in the wind behind him. 

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

Tomorrow, or today, does not turn out to be a Sponge Day after all. Jisung is _energized_ , whizzing around the bar like he’s made of light. It’s only slightly disarming, but then again, Seungmin has also witnessed Highly Caffienated Han Jisung and the current version pales just a tad bit in comparison. 

They’re the second performance, right after Jeongin’s, and Seungmin is only a little nervous. What _really_ ties the whole thing together is that somehow Jisung has managed to convince him to coordinate outfits with him. Now they’re both dressed in faded blue jeans and soft sweaters and he _knows_ that Hyunjin will force them to stand together later so he can take a picture – or maybe ten, seeing as it’s _Hyunjin –_ for his Instagram. It’s a bit irksome and Seungmin’s already getting worked up over it.

“Aren’t you the perfect picture of happiness,” says a voice behind him, light and gleeful. Seungmin doesn’t turn around to face Han Jisung, but he does wonder how Jisung had known he would be here, fussing over his clothing in the tiny bathroom. He says, instead, “Whatever happened to your Sponge Day. Bring it back.” 

“Asshole,” Jisung replies, in pleasant tones as he leans in a little closer to straighten the collar of Seungmin’s undershirt. “And come to the warehouse in ten because Minho hyung wants to talk to us!” he adds, shuffling away and out of the door. Seungmin waits till the door swings behind him before exhaling in relief, willing his traitorous heart to beat a little slower. He doesn’t know how the night will progress, about what will ensue. In all honesty, he thinks he’s being a bit dramatic, but then he remembers what Jisung had said to him only yesterday, voice gentle like a petal and clear as crystal, and thinks maybe he’s not being dramatic enough. Maybe he’ll keep galling Han Jisung around forever, just to make a point. 

Pleased with this decision, he finally submerges from the remote bathroom and steps out into the room, blinking at the sudden brightness. A makeshift stage has been set up right beside the bar itself, the barstools stashed somewhere in the warehouse, and Christmas lights are hanging on the walls like glimmering talismans. There’s also a curtain, blood red and magnificent, hung behind the stage. Seungmin assumes that’s where they’ll be hiding right before their performance. What surprises him most, however, is the sudden surge in the regular number of customers. Seungmin doesn’t recall ever seeing so many people in the bar, all at once, before. 

“It’s not a Christmas miracle,” someone says beside him, matter-of-fact. 

“It isn’t?” Seungmin asks in genuine surprise. What else could it be? 

“No,” Minho replies easily. “They’re here because they’d rather be lonely with other people than be alone all by themselves.” 

Seungmin gives him a strange look. “That’s a weird thing to say,” he comments, because it is. Who says things like that besides diaspora poets – especially in Minho’s orthodox, deadpan way of conversing. 

“To you, maybe. But people don’t like being alone, especially on Christmas.” He claps a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder. “To the warehouse we go.” Seungmin glances once more at the crowd of people seated at various tables, all of them with the same dull look in their eyes. He wonders if Minho’s right after all. Maybe it’s better to be lonely with someone else. 

In the warehouse, Chan is frantic as he pulls open his laptop because apparently he’s deleted one of the instrumentals needed for tonight. “Didn’t you save it on a hard drive?” Changbin tuts, and withers under the gaze Chan fixes him with, briefly. 

Felix looks stressed too and hands Chan a beer. “Drink,” he suggests flatly, like it’s a solution. Chan drinks, and Seungmin watches in amusement as his hyung’s shoulders sag before Minho pierces the silence with a loud “EVERYONE!” 

Immediately they all straighten up and eye Minho, who looks very pleased. He’s smiling as he says, “Tonight is a very big night.” They wait with bated breath for him to continue, because the air suddenly feels a hundred times sharper and it’s _thrumming_ with excitement. Except: “That’s all,” Minho finishes and Felix, as sweet as ever, despite the confusion evident in the creases of his forehead, says, “Very nice, hyung.” 

“Loser,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, a perfect contrast to Felix. “Loser- _hyung_ ,” he corrects hurriedly, when Minho smiles brightly at him with too much teeth. 

“Is that really it?” Jisung asks, slightly confused. He looks around, as if waiting for something to pop out. “That’s the big speech?”

“No one said there would be a speech–” Minho begins, but is gently pushed aside by Chan, who says nicely, “What Minho means is thank you for helping us out.”

“Yes,” Minho nods, satisfied, like that’s what he had been wanting to say all along. “Thank you very, _very_ much. I will give you all free drinks and food later.”

“You do that anyway,” Jeongin points out and Minho sighs wearily, like his kindness is something so taxing. “I will also pay for tickets to Barbados.”

“Woah,” Hyunjin whistles, suddenly a million times happier. He looks like he’s just won one of the raffles he’s always buying tickets for. “ _Woaaaah_. We’re going to _Barbados,_ hyung,” he announces, slapping Changbin’s arm in excitement. His boyfriend doesn’t even flinch, giving his hand a gentle pat instead. 

“That’s a lie,” Chan states, clearly at the end of his tether. “None of you are going to Barbados and Minho is lying because he dabbles in the art of dishonesty for his own amusement. Also, we are living through a _pandemic_.” 

Changbin blinks. “Repeat the first part of what you just said in simple Korean. Fast.” 

“He’s lying because he finds it fun,” Chan explains tiredly. 

“On _Christmas_ , of all days,” Hyunjin huffs, looking a lot like a deflated ballon. He shoots the perpetrator a baleful look. 

“I’m an atheist,” Minho replies easily. “But seriously, thank you everyone and I _will_ be giving you all free tickets to Lotte World!”

“What about the pandemic,” Seungmin points out over the cacophony of excited cheers, and feels Jisung stifle a laugh somewhere behind him. 

“Then you can stay at home, Kim Seungmin,” Minho smiles sweetly, already moving towards the door with feline grace. 

“Now, who’s ready to perform?” 

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

Two barstools wait for him and Jisung on the stage, microphones placed right in front of them. Seungmin watches as Jeongin steps off the stage, listens as the audience yell out praises at the young boy who had somehow managed to make even their hearts beat a little faster with his voice. Seungmin is so awestruck that he nearly forgets they’re up next, till Jisung’s bony elbow knocks right into his ribs. 

_“Ow_ , he hisses, glaring at his partner. 

“Sorry,” Jisung mutters, sounding far from it. “Just thought I’d remind you that after Chan hyung finishes speaking we have to go up there and perform.”

“I _know_. I was there when Chan hyung first told us about it. I was there when we practised singing it together. I was there when—”

“Okay, _okay_ ,” Jisung grumbles, waving him away. “You’re so annoying.”

“Says you,” Seungmin replies, satisfied, and waits as Chan motions at them to step toward from behind curtains. 

Suddenly the nervousness he had been feeling earlier creeps up his skin again and he sucks in a quiet breath, blinking at the number of people in front of him as he walks onto the stage. There’s a quiet chorus of encouragement that he hardly hears and then Jisung is beside him, taking a seat on the barstool and angling the microphone so it’s right where he wants it to be, inches away from his mouth. Seungmin mirrors his actions, already feeling lighter. Right before the music starts playing and the notes make a home in the air around them, Jisung turns to give him a smile. It’s warm, the kind of smile that could make Seungmin do just about anything. It says, just as clearly as the day Jisung had first said those words to him, “ _I think you’re really the coolest, Seungmin-ah. I think you can do anything_.” For the second time in his life, Seungmin lets the odd little thing in his chest bloom. 

The smile wanes a little and Seungmin straightens on the stool, letting the music fill his ears. The crowd eyes him expectantly, waiting for him so start singing and then just as the right note reaches him, he’s singing before he realizes it, out of pure habit now more than anything, and it takes him a moment to understand that _wow, he’s really doing this_. 

Jisung continues from where he left off, and suddenly the words that he’s singing seem so much real now. So real, that Seungmin’s own heart is twisting as Jisung’s voice washes over his entire being and the words dig into his skin, because he’s sure he’s said something along the same lines to Jisung before. 

There’s an ache in his chest as he takes over the chorus, feels those brilliant eyes burn into the side of his face like an unwavering flame that shoots tendrils of warmth through his body. 

When he raises his gaze, the audience is swaying to the music, to their voices, each face a different story. Seungmin looks into the small crowd and finally understands what Minho had meant earlier; there is a sense of togetherness in finding people whose hearts ache the same way yours does. 

He thinks of Jisung and wonders if he understands as well; if his throat clogs like Seungmin’s does, if his eyes sting sometimes with the weight of his emotions, if he still remembers what it feels like to love someone so much that you cannot bring yourself to feel anything else. 

He realizes with a start that they’re nearing the end now, and he lets his eyes drift to Jisung as practised – it feels a lot more natural now, less forced without Chan chivvying them. Starry eyes meet his and as they break out into the last verse, Jisung’s words from yesterday ring in his ears like a warning, but Seungmin has made up his mind already: he is not letting go of Han Jisung anytime soon.

The melody fades into nothingness, his words come to a halt and Jisung gives him one last heart-stuttering look before singing the final verse. Almost immediately, the crowd breaks out into raucous applause. Seungmin hears a few sniffles, even, and spots a handkerchief or two being pressed to damp eyes. He stands there for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then he feels something warm slip into his hand, tugging him downwards into a bow. His own heartbeat is ringing in his ears as he stumbles behind the curtains, and it’s then he realizes that the source of warmth had been Jisung’s hand all along and that he’s still holding onto it.

“Sorry–” he begins, but the words die in his throat as he sees the softness in Jisung’s gaze. 

“I hope we never have to sing that song again,” is what Jisung says to him with a small smile, and Seungmin nods in agreement. He wants to say something else, something witty as usual, but nothing comes to mind and his mouth feels so incredibly dry. He just wants to stretch time out like taffy, make it so slow and so sweet that he never has to worry about not existing alongside Jisung again. 

Whether Jisung shares the sentiment or not, it's hard to tell. He feels Jisung’s hand tighten around his own for a brief moment, his face a flickering projection of a multitude of emotions, before he blinks suddenly and lets go. “You did well, by the way,” he says honestly. Seungmin isn’t sure. The past few minutes already feel like a blur and he isn’t even sure of what he had sang just moments ago. Still, “Thanks. You too,” he replies, and means it. 

Jisung shrugs, but even Seungmin can tell it’s only because he’s struggling to come up with the right response. “Hey,” he begins, unsure of what he even wants to say –he just knows he badly wants to make this moment last a little longer – only to be cut off by someone knocking into him from behind. “ _Ow–_ Oh, hey Felix.”

Felix blinks owlishly at him, a little pink in the face. “Oh my god– I am _so_ sorry, Seungmin,” he apologises, eyes wide with worry. Beside him, Jisung is struggling not to laugh and vaguely resembles a seal. 

“It’s okay, Felix, don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” Seungmin asks, because frankly speaking Felix looks a little distressed. 

“Yes– It’s just that Chan hyung is looking for you two. He’s saying you should join everyone else in the audience because your friends are performing next and you might want to see.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Thank you, Felix,” Seungmin replies, flashing him a grateful smile before the boy sidles out gracefully out of the door leaving Jisung and Seungmin alone again. “So,” Jisung starts, “What is it that you were saying?” 

Seungmin licks his lips, mouth dry all of a sudden. There’s a lot he wants to say, now that he thinks of it, but to put everything he’s feeling into words seems impossible. For now, at least. He settles for a shrug. “We can talk later,” he says, and then realizes a moment later that he had said the same exacts words before when he and Jisung met for the first time after a year. Jisung seems to be thinking the same thing as well, because he stiffens for a split second before giving Seungmin a curt nod. “Sure,” he mutters, like he doesn’t believe Seungmin at all. Before Seungmin can say anything else to him, however, he brushes past him and slips out of the room. 

Music pumps out of the large speakers placed on either side of the stage when Seungmin steps out as well, and he remembers quickly that this is the song Hyunjin was going to be dancing to. Sure enough, when he finally finds a seat two spots away from Jisung – Changbin and Jeongin between them – he can see Hyunjin and Minho moving lithely under a spotlight positioned perfectly above them. Their moves are sharp, alluring. Minho closely resembles a Greek god with all those bright lights contouring the sharp planes of his face. Seungmin thinks belatedly how this is the strangest Christmas he has ever had, as the lights turn a vivid shade of green and Hyunjin hip-thrusts, his boyfriend nearly falling off his chair in awe.

He’s so immersed in the performance, so caught up in the song, that when it ends, he blinks rapidly and tries to make sense of what’s happening. The audience has once again erupted into shrill cheers, some whistling and he sees Hyunjin and Minho bow before disappearing backstage. His phone lights up suddenly, and Seungmin blinks again, waiting for his vision to clear. 

**jisung:**

**[8:47PM]: sponge day! sorry :/**

There’s a brief moment of panic that settles in after he reads the message. His eyes fly to the chair beside Jeongin’s but it’s empty. He’s scrambling out of his own seat before he even realizes it, pushing past the people standing in front of him with hastily muttered apologies. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t let Jisung get away this time, at least not until they had spoken to each other. 

Before he can start looking, however, he runs into Hyunjin, who is sweating and looks just as frenzied as him. 

“You were great,” Seungmin rushes out over the music, because Hyunjin really _was_ incredible but he just doesn’t have time right now. He really doesn’t. Something inside is telling him he needs to find Jisung immediately.

“No, no,” Hyunjin groans, panicking. Seungmin wonders briefly what’s got him in such a mess “Go–” he jerks his thumb towards the door. “Go _right_ now.”

“Go… where?” Seungmin asks, even more confused than before. 

“Oh my god,” his best friend breathes, like he’s the stupidest person alive. “ _Jisung_ – I just saw him leave, so _go._ ”

“Oh,” Seungmin replies. “ _Oh_ ,” and then he’s hardly squeezed Hyunjin’s hand in thanks before he’s racing towards the door, heart in his throat. He pushes it open with one hand, the cold air hitting his face the moment he steps outside, and scans the area around him frantically. The bench outside is empty, and the ground is completely covered in snow, but Seungmin can just about make out a fresh set of footprints. He follows them as quickly as he can, all the while whispering a silent prayer to let _him_ be there when he reaches the end of the trail. And sure enough, in the distance, his eyes catch a familiar mess of black hair standing right outside the empty parking lot. 

When Seungmin approaches him, the staccato of his heart returning to something close to normal, he sees Jisung clearly with his head tilted upwards towards the sky. His eyes are shut, his gloved hands stuffed in his pockets with flakes of snow settling on his shoulders, his hair, all over him. Seungmin isn’t a poet by any means, but he’s sure that even if he had all the words in the world tucked away firmly in the palm of his hand, he would still be unable to describe how beautiful Jisung looks right now. Untouchable but so full of life. 

His heart hurts something awful, and for a few seconds he can only glance at Jisung from afar, unsure of what to do and how to approach him. Right now, he thinks, Jisung is as close as he can possibly get, and the thought alone makes him feel reassured, like he’s got all the time in the world. 

“How long are you going to stand there?” Jisung asks suddenly and Seungmin jolts. His eyes are still closed, but his lips curl upwards ever so slightly. How had he known Seungmin was standing behind him this entire time? 

“I heard you,” Jisung explains, although Seungmin hadn’t even managed to ask him as yet, and turns around to face him. He’s got constellations in his eyes; Orion, Perseus, Crux – they’re all there. Seungmin can’t look away. “What is it?” 

It’s funny that Jisung doesn’t ask him why Seungmin had felt the need to follow him rather than call him like anyone else would, that he had simply accepted it. But then again, he thinks, it’s also funny that Jisung had been standing there the entire time, as if waiting for him to come get him. He shakes his head and forces himself to stop staring. “I was wondering,” he manages to say, voice scratchy, “where are you going to be spending Christmas?”

“Oh,” Jisung says, brows furrowed like he hadn’t been expecting Seungmin to ask him that. “My friend’s place. I’ve been staying with him these past few days.”

Seungmin frowns. “But isn’t your friend going home for Christmas day? Aren’t you? Going back to Incheon, I mean. What about your family?”

“Why do you ask?”

Seungmin swallows the annoyance he suddenly feels, scowling as he eyes Jisung. “What, I can’t even ask you a simple question now? Fine, then.” 

He’s only turning to leave when Jisung laughs, and then suddenly, despite everything, he finds himself rooted to his spot. The sound makes his heart expand tenfold in his chest and he has to purse his lips to keep himself from breaking out into a smile. He doesn’t even know _why_ Jisung is so amused, but it’s his laugh – so bright and bubbly – that makes Seungmin want to grin like there’s no tomorrow. It’s always like this with Jisung, he thinks belatedly. Always is, and always will be. 

“Have I ever told you how cute you are when you get all worked up?” Jisung says, so, _so_ fondly that it hurts. The barely there smile on Seungmin’s face slips. He doesn’t feel like laughing anymore. 

“Anyway,” he continues easily, while Seungmin is left gaping at him in response, “My friend _is_ going home for Christmas, but I’m staying at his place since my parents are visiting hyung in Canada.” 

“Who else will be there with you?”

Jisung wiggles his eyebrows, although he looks pleased. “Inquisitive, aren’t you?” he teases. “Don’t worry, it’s just me and the very cool NatGeo documentaries I’ve downloaded. I’ll send you some if you want.”

Seungmin’s head shoots up against his will, hardly registering anything but the fact that Jisung was going to be alone in an unfamiliar place on an occasion that was supposed to be full of nothing but merriment. “You’re not spending Christmas alone,” he states. 

Jisung rolls his eyes with a hardly suppressed grin. “It’ll be fine, worrywart. It’s just one Christmas.” 

“Absolutely not.” Seungmin argues, a little surprised himself at how firm his voice sounds. 

Jisung looks up at him, starry eyes and all. There’s a quirk to his lips, a lightness to his posture. Seungmin thinks he could give him the world if he asked for it. “What are you trying to say, Kim Seungmin?”

“Come home with me.”

There’s a pause, a moment of silence so tense that it feels almost palpable. Jisung looks at him and he looks right back, and there’s something in the way his eyes meet Seungmin’s that has Seungmin’s heart racing a mile a minute. He swallows, wanting to turn away, and it’s then that Jisung lets out a laugh and sways where he’s standing. “Ooh, Kim Seungmin. I’m blushing!” he mock swoons, fanning his face with small, gloved hands. It’s unbelievably cute.

The lump in Seungmin’s throat disappears. “You should be,” he replies breezily. “It’s not every boy who gets to come to my house.”

“Just me, right?” Jisung asks like he doesn’t know already. His eyes are glittering now, for all the right reasons this time, and Seungmin finally accepts that maybe it’s time to stop running away from the one thing he wants to keep by his side forever.

He allows Jisung the pleasure of a genuine smile and then begins striding towards the parking lot, his scarf flapping in the wind. “Are you coming or not?” he calls out after him and has to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing in unbidden glee when he hears Jisung’s shoes scuffling behind him. 

“It's so cold,” Jisung shudders, when he’s right next to him. His cheeks are flushed, shoulders hunched slightly as he tries to shield himself from the cold. When he speaks, his words tickle Seungmin’s cheek and Seungmin’s heart leaps. Had Jisung always been this ridiculously beautiful in winter? 

In a sudden act of nobility that has absolutely nothing to do with the urge to be as close to Jisung as possible, he does the only thing he can think of and grabs Jisung’s hand, stuffing it inside the warmth of his own coat’s pocket. He doesn’t miss it, how Jisung’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before crinkling at the corners as he breaks out into a smile that is so bright, it rivals the sun itself. 

“You’ve turned into quite the romantic,” Jisung teases, and easily lets Seungmin tug him forward without another word. “Who’s got you feeling this way, hm, Kim Seungmin?”

His voice is still light, still playful, but Seungmin has known Jisung for far too long to understand that only part of him is joking now. That despite the teasing lilt, there’s an undertone of hopefulness. The way Jisung’s hand curls in on itself in his pocket, how his steps filter for a split second, how his breath catches — it’s enough for Seungmin to know. 

He doesn’t reply, but reaches inside his pocket to wrap his hand around the much smaller one that’s already present there. 

Jisung smiles again, and Seungmin decides that despite the way their breaths frost in the air around them, he has never felt warmer.

“I’m bringing someone home for Christmas,” he whispers to his mother over the phone while Jisung tries to locate a taxi for the two of them. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Who is it?” his mother asks. 

“Just-– you’ll see. Don’t freak out, please. And do _not_ read too much into it, no matter what.”

“But _who?_ Is it–”

“Mom, please,” he pleads.

His mother mutters something incomprehensible and then the line goes dead. Seungmin hopes she’ll pay heed to his very clear instructions – he can’t have Jisung knowing the extremely embarrassing aftermath of their breakup that he is absolutely _certain_ his mother will be all too eager to share with him once she’s reunited with Seungmin’s last and most favourite ex of hers. She loves Jisung, he knows, and will be head over heels to have him back under their roof. 

God, maybe Seungmin shouldn’t have invited him over after all. What if his mother pushed him to go out with Jisung again? Or worse still, what if she started dropping Jisung artless hints to go out with Seungmin instead? Seungmin wouldn’t put it past her. She still thinks their breakup is the most half-witted decision he’s ever made, even more so than the ridiculous pair of light-up neon sneakers he’d worn to their annual family dinner way back in eighth grade. 

“Taxi’s here,” Jisung calls out and Seungmin mentally chides his legs for wobbling so much as he seats himself inside the white Corolla. Why was he so nervous? Oh right, his _mother_. And also, his ex boyfriend was sitting right next to him, both of them on their way to his house to celebrate Christmas together. Seungmin tries not to throw up. Why, _why_ had he not thought once more before mindlessly giving Jisung an invitation. 

“Hey,” Jisung whispers quietly, giving him a slight nudge with his elbow. “You can still change your mind, you know?”

“Uh, what?” he says blankly. When he looks up, he finds Jisung eyeing him with concern and the sight makes his heart beat a little faster. 

“It’s just– you look a bit scared.”

“Oh,” Seungmin says, suddenly feeling a bit awful. It isn’t _Jisung’s_ fault Seungmin is nearly always impulsive when it comes to his feelings towards him. That no matter how much he tries to deny it, he’s always willing to make exceptions for the older boy. 

“No, don’t worry,” he replies, hoping to sound reassuring. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Jisung shakes his head in amusement. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, you know that?”

“I’m not lying!” he insists, but Jisung only smiles. 

“I’ll go to my friend’s place. It’s fine.”

“What, no!” 

“Seungmin, seriously–”

“Hannie, _no._ I want you to come home with me for Christmas.” 

He doesn’t understand at first _why_ Jisung’s eyes widen for a few seconds. Why the lilt to his lips gives way to a parting between them in evident surprise. Why the playful bickering fizzles out and suddenly it’s just him and Jisung and the silence in the car and nothing else. 

And then he realizes, remembers, and it’s too much. He’s already slipping into old habits and it shouldn’t be this easy, but it is. It’s always been so easy with Jisung. With Hannie.

( _“Stop it, Hannie.”_

_“You’re being ridiculous, Hannie.”_

_I love you, Hannie.”_ )

He swallows, looking away. “I’m sorry.” The words sound brittle.

“For what?” Jisung asks. His voice is so quiet, it makes Seungmin ache. 

“I don’t know. Everything– this?”

Jisung’s fingers curl around his wrist, tugging slightly. Warmth blooms in his skin where Jisung’s hand grazes his’. “Hey,” Jisung whispers, “look at me.” And Seungmin does. He’s met with brows furrowed in worry, lips pursed with seriousness, and eyes full of sincerity. 

“What?”

“What are you really worried about?” Jisung questions, tone solemn as always when it comes to Seungmin. “You can tell me anything, okay? I won’t mind, I promise.” 

Seungmin gulps. “I’m scared it’s– You know how Mom is,” he explains, flustered, like a dam breaking loose. “She’s going to say something weird and make you uncomfortable and then it’ll ruin your entire trip and I really want you to have a good Christmas but what if–”

Jisung cuts him off with an incredulous laugh, eyes alight with disbelief. “ _Seungmin_ , are you actually crazy? What’s wrong with you?”

“What? What’s wrong with me?” He mumbles, feeling his lips form a pout. Why was Jisung making fun of the _very valid_ argument he was raising? His mother was frankly quite unpredictable and could be a downright terror at times. “You _know_ that,” he adds with a frown.

Jisung has the gall to laugh again. 

“You’re not taking this very seriously,” Seungmin scowls, swatting at Jisung’s hand. “This is a _serious_ concern.” 

“It’s really not,” Jisung replies, grinning. His hand finds its way back to Seungmin’s, fiddling with his sleeves. Seungmin wants to kiss the stupid smile off his face. “I love your mom,” the older of the two continues, “In fact, who do you think I’m _actually_ coming over for?”

Seungmin shoves him. “She doesn’t even know I’m bringing you with me,” he mutters.

Jisung lets out a tantalized gasp, hands rubbing the area on his arm where Seungmin had hit him. “Why didn’t you tell her? Give me your phone, I’ll tell Auntie myself.” His hands scrabble for the phone, deftly digging it out of Seungmin’s pocket before he even has time to realize what’s happening. In a second, Jisung is leaning away from him with the phone clutched tightly in his hands, fingers flying over the keypad as he inputs the passcode like he has multiple times before. 

**0 0 0 9 1 4**

“Oh.” It’s only when Jisung turns to look at him, eyes filled with surprise and jaw falling open slightly does Seungmin realize that even after a year, he never really got around to changing the password, after all. 

“It’s easy,” he explains with a lump in his throat, “and I got used to it.” 

Jisung softens. “Okay.” 

In a minute he’s got the phone pressed against his ear, words tumbling out of his mouth as he chatters away excitedly with Seungmin’s mother. Seungmin can hear her voice bouncing out of the speakers, positively quaking with delight. Well, he supposes, that’s one less problem to deal with. He might have a wonderful Christmas after all.

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎  
  


Seungmin hasn’t even rung the doorbell properly yet before the door is flung open and his mother springs into view, face flushed with excitement. ”Jisung!” she exclaims in delight, eyes lighting up the moment she sees him. Completely ignoring the fact that her _own son_ is also very much present, she pulls him inside the warmth of their house, fussing over him like he’s a child. 

“Mom, calm _down_ ,” Seungmin almost says, but both his mom and Jisung seem so happy that the words never really leave his mouth. He watches as she gives his cheek a fond pat before firmly planting him on the sofa with the promise of dinner in fifteen minutes. 

“Wow,” Jisung breathes after she leaves and it’s the just the two of them, his face flushed pleasantly. He leans back into the sofa and closes his eyes. “I missed this.” 

_Yeah_ , _me too,_ Seungmin thinks, feeling his own heart twist a little. He hums in response and then wonders idly what he and Jisung will do now that he’s actually _here._ And this is the strangest part, because Seungmin is known for being the most meticulous one out of their friend group; the one who plans ahead, who knows what to expect. He doesn’t just mindlessly give into his wishes (i.e: call Jisung over.) But then again, he reminds himself, Jisung has always been an exception. 

Dinner is a somewhat clamorous affair despite there being only three people, one of whom remains mostly silent. (Read: Seungmin). His mother and Jisung together are a loquacious duo, talkative enough on their own but _combined…_ Seungmin half-wishes he and Jisung had just gone off somewhere on their own. What eases him, though, as much as he hates to admit it, is that every so often Jisung would sneak glances at him, giving him a shy, but still very smile every time he got caught doing so. Seungmin pretends it doesn’t affect him, that his heart doesn’t flutter exactly as it used to _before_ , but he’s sure the slight twitch of his own lips gives him away, anyway.

He listens as his mother laughs at something Jisung says, _ooh_ -ing and _ah_ -ing every so often, before she starts asking him questions about his life in America: If he missed Korea at all, if the food was satisfactory and how often he’d crave good, home-cooked meals. Seungmin squirms in his seat; his mother may have good intentions, but she does have a history of coming off as a little impudent at times. However, one look at Jisung is enough to assure him that the other boy doesn’t mind in the slightest. Rather, Jisung answers easily, as if he’s happy to talk about that aspect of his life and Seungmin feels a little relieved that his mother somehow managed to ask Jisung everything he himself couldn’t.

Until: “And have you been seeing anyone?” his mothers asks curiously after taking a sip of her wine. “I’m sure the students there must be _very_ attractive.” She adds, eyes widening. 

Seungmin’s fingers tighten around his spoon, and he glares at his mother, unable to believe that she had asked Jisung something _so_ personal and so carelessly, at that. “Mom,” he begins quietly, but Jisung waves him away. “It’s fine,” he shrugs, taking another bite of his food. “Actually, Auntie,” he begins with a slightly embarrassed laugh, the back of his neck reddening incredibly fast, and Seungmin suddenly feels his stomach churn. He looks away, staring fixedly at his bowl of rice, wondering what he’ll do if Jisung says _yes._ It’s too much, even for him, and he’s ready to escape to the bathroom when– 

“No, I haven’t.” There’s a brief moment of silence. Seungmin’s fingers loosen almost of their own accord, his spoon sinking into the rice. He feels a pair of eyes glance his way before they look away hurriedly, and he wonders for a split second if he’d imagined it. He turns to Jisung, but the other boy is looking almost determinedly at Seungmin’s mother as he adds, “The students there were just–” he breaks off with a laugh. “Well, for one thing, they were really messy. My roommate, for example, left his clothes _everywhere._ ”

Seungmin suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. _Like you aren’t,_ he almost says.

His mothers tuts sympathically. “Messy roommates _are_ troublesome,” she agrees. 

“Yes,” Jisung nods solemnly. “Another thing – none of them seemed to like avocados very much, either.”

“Avocados?” Seungmin’s mother repeats, slightly confused. Seungmin frowns too; wasn’t disliking a certain fruit _too_ specific of a factor? And as far as he remembers, Jisung had never much like avocados, either. He shakes his head and adds another helping of beef to his plate. Jisung was just as strange as ever. 

“And I noticed something else, too,” Jisung continues, pausing to thank Seungmin’s mother as she heaps another serving of rice in his bowl. “They didn’t keep journals with them.” 

Seungmin’s mother gives him an odd glance. “Journals?” 

“Yes,” Jisung confirms extremely seriously. “They never wrote about how their day went, or if they learnt something new.”

Seungmin lowers his spoon and turns his head to face Jisung. “But you’ve never kept a journal, either,” he points out slowly and watches as Jisung shifts a little in seat, ears a light shade of red. Eventually, he settles for a shrug, decidedly ignoring Seungmin’s unwavering gaze and says, “Truth be told, Auntie, they just weren’t what I was looking for. And also,” he adds with a giggle, hand coming up to cover his mouth as he chews, “their breath smelt funny.” 

Seungmin blinks. “Aren’t you being too rude?” he asks before he can help himself. After all, what did their _breath_ have to do with anything? And he’s certain that not all of the students there could’ve been walking around with foul breath. 

Jisung tilts his head, eyes glittering as they finally meet Seungmin’s. “See, it would’ve been okay if they’d brushed their teeth – I don’t know, maybe six times a day? But I’m pretty sure they only brushed them twice.” 

“But–” Seungmin starts indignantly, and then stops. He stares and stares, because he thinks he’s beginning to understand what Jisung is trying to say without exclusively doing so. Unless Seungmin’s very much mistaken, which he’s ninety-nine percent sure he _isn’t_ , then Jisung had just listed traits that were the _exact_ opposite of his.

Seungmin’s mother, on the other hand, startles. “But why should they, dear? No one does that!” She pauses for a moment, her brows knitted like she’s thinking deeply. Maybe she’s had enough wine, Seungmin decides. And then, just as he reaches to take her glass, she says, “Well,” and glances at her son, and then shakes her head in slight exasperation, “no one except for Seungminnie, that is. But then again, he’s always been an exception.” 

“Yes,” Jisung agrees immediately, like this was the point he’d been trying to make all along. There’s a warmth to his smile, a softness in his voice as he repeats quietly, “He’s always been an exception, hasn’t he?” 

Just like that, the air in the room becomes so suffocating, he can barely breathe. He watches as his mother pours some wine for Jisung, watches as he looks away from Seungmin’s startled face and laughs at a joke that Seungmin hardly registers. _It’s too much_ , he thinks. It’s too much to have Jisung sit here like he has countless times before, too much for him to joke around with his family because it feels so painfully familiar and all Seungmin can think about is how long _this_ is going to last. If it’s going to begin in the first place. 

With fingers that tremble only slightly, he pushes his plate away and mumbles something about needing to use the toilet. Although Jisung glances at him in concern, his mother is quick to excuse him and engages Jisung in conversation soon enough, her voice carrying out all the way up to his bedroom as he races up the stairs. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, in the middle of his room, trying to steady his breathing and make sense of the complete mess in his mind. His eyes land on his desk, on the baby-blue Pocacho notebook his sister had given to him as a gift earlier this year. Jisung’s words resurface; _“They didn’t keep journals with them.”_

Seungmin blinks, swallowing the sudden bitterness in his mouth. He wishes sometimes that Jisung would just say what he wants to, instead of speaking in half-riddles that drive him crazy. Avocados and journals and _brushing_ _teeth._ Trust Jisung to remember all the insignificant things about him. 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been; five minutes or half an hour, when the door behind him swings open quietly. He doesn’t register the presence of another person till the carpet dips under someone else’s weight and his heart just stops beating. He spins around immediately, and comes face to face with Jisung, his face pinched in worry.

Seungmin knows he’s probably going to address whatever happened downstairs, and he isn’t sure he’s prepared to talk about it yet. But what comes out of Jisung’s mouth is this: 

“You cried?” His voice is soft, worried. Seungmin blinks, confused. What was Jisung talking about– _Oh_ . The shock gives way to anger. _Of course_ his mother had decided to share the details of post-breakup Seungmin with his ex. Of course. He doesn’t know what he’s angrier about, the fact that his mother had explicitly ignored his wishes or that this is the second time he and Jisung are approaching the topic of their breakup, and not at all in the way he had wanted them to. 

“Didn’t you?” he replies finally, looking away, because he’s sure that if he sees the concern on Jisung’s face one more time, he’ll combust. 

“Of course I did. You _know_ I did,” Jisung says, taking a step closer to him. The carpet sinks slightly under his foot. “But your mom said you cried for _week_ s.”

“Well, forgive me for being upset,” he snaps, even more hurt and angry, now, that his mother had gone behind his back and told Jisung how he’d reacted to their breakup. Hadn’t he asked her not to? For this exact reason? He turns to walk out, but Jisung holds him back, slotting his hand into his. 

“You didn’t tell me,” Jisung’s voice is quiet now – wounded, almost. 

Seungmin laughs, incredulous, Jisung’s hand much too warm in his own. “We broke up, Jisung. Why would I have told you that _after_ we broke up?” 

At this, Jisung looks up at him, his lips a thin, flat line. “We shouldn’t have broken up, then,” he says firmly. 

Seungmin gapes at him for a brief moment before his face hardens. He yanks his hand out of Jisung’s grasp. “ _You_ should’ve listened to me.

Jisung shakes his head. “And then what, stayed apart for an entire year? How would that have worked?”

“We could have _tried_ ,” Seungmin hisses, feeling the color rise to his cheeks. “You didn’t– you didn’t even give us a chance–”

“ _I_ didn’t give us a chance? Seungmin, _you_ broke up with me.”

“Because you were going to give up something that–”

Jisung cuts him off with a noise of annoyance. “Whatever I give up has nothing to do with _you_ –”

“Are you kidding me?” Seungmin snaps, tone crescendoing to a timbre closely resembling a yell, “It had everything to do with me! The only reason you were staying here was for _me_.” 

“But it’s still my choice,” Jisung argues, standing firmly in place. His cheeks are puffed out, arms folded tightly, and he looks at Seungmin with a defiance that is reminiscent of their times in middle school, when Jisung was as rebellious as ever. He isn’t angry though, Seungmin can tell, just frustrated. 

“If you think,” Seungmin begins, clenching his fingers to keep his voice from quivering, “If you think for even a split second that I would let you throw away something like that for– for a _relationship–_ ”

“I love you,” Jisung huffs, cheeks pink. His eyes are trained on the carpet below them. “Wasn’t that enough of a reason to stay?"

The world stops. 

“Love?” Seungmin repeats after what is really a moment but could’ve easily been an eternity. The monosyllable is breathy, inaudible, almost, but Jisung hears it. Of course he does. “Jisung, love? As in present tense? As in _now?”_

Jisung finally looks up at him, shadows dancing in his eyes. “Would it make a difference?” 

Seungmin stares at him in disbelief, the anger seeping out of him so quickly it’s like he’s never felt it before. A _difference?_ It would make all the difference in the world, he thinks. 

“You know,” Jisung mutters petulantly when Seungmin does nothing but gape at him, shifting nervously on the carpet, “you _could_ say it back or at least–”

Seungmin kisses him; it’s the only way to express how he’s feeling right now – the only way to convey the strange, unbidden exhilaration that’s taken over him completely. And yet, the moment his lips meet Jisung’s, he feels the other boy freeze, shoulders tensing under the weight of Seungmin’s hands. Happiness gives way to dread; was this too much? They had barely talked properly, and he’d just– he’d _kissed_ Jisung. Horrified by his own impulsive action, he moves to pull away from Jisung but stays rooted to the spot as small, gentle hands come up to cradle the side of his jaw, keeping him in place. He feels as Jisung relaxes, his lips sliding against Seungmin’s before they slot together almost perfectly, and then Jisung is kissing _him._

There’s an odd thumping that rings in his ears, so loud he can hardly hear anything else, and he realizes belatedly that it’s his own heart. He wonders if Jisung can hear it too, if he can feel how terrified Seungmin is right now as his fingers crawl all the way up to play with Seungmin’s hair, toying with the stray strands on the base of his neck.

Time seems to stretch on forever as they kiss, until Jisung lets out a sound that makes Seungmin’s head spin and he pulls back a little reluctantly, one hand still on Jisung’s waist. 

“Does that answer your question?” he rasps, his voice strangely hoarse as his eyes meet Jisung’s.

“Maybe,” Jisung says, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face. He looks slightly out of it, with his half-lidded eyes and flushed face, but Seungmin can’t blame him; he’s sure he looks even more dazed than Jisung. “I still want you to say it, though.”

Seungmin concedes immediately. With Jisung, it’s hard not to. “I love you,” he says, completely serious, and revels in the way light spills out of Jisung’s smile like sunbeams. “I don’t think I ever stopped,” he adds honestly. Now that he thinks of it, maybe Hyunjin was right after all; he never did get over Jisung. 

Jisung laughs and it’s the most beautiful thing ever, like a song Seungmin could have on repeat for longer than an eternity. “You’re unbelievably cheesy,” he says, running his hands through Seungmin’s hair. “You weren’t like that before.”

Seungmin snorts, ignores the way his heart feels close to bursting with joy. _“I’m_ cheesy.”

“Yeah!” Jisung fires back immediately. “Yeah, you are. You did the entire ‘look into your eyes and tell you how much I love you’ thing.” 

“You did it, too!”

“Seriously, though,” Jisung says, completely ignoring him. He gently pulls himself out of Seungmin’s grasp and throws himself on the bed. (“Jisung, the _sheets–”_ Seungmin hisses.) “We still have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin nods. They really do. Like what happens next? And where do they stand? What _are_ they? “We’ve got time, though,” he adds happily, joining Jisung and reaching for his hand. His fingers run over the smooth skin of Jisung’s palm, tracing the lines mapped on the expanse of skin. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Hm, we have to,” Jisung mumbles, inching closer to rest his head on Seungmin’s slap. “I’m sleepy now.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, a bubble of warmth slowly rising in his chest. “Go to sleep then.”

“Well, hurry up and get changed so I can,” Jisung fires back sleepily. “You always take too long. You and your pretentious skincare routine.”

“It’s not pretentious,” he scoffs, pulling his legs from under Jisung’s head and fighting back a laugh when he lets out a loud whine. “And anyway, what makes you think I’m sleeping here tonight?”

“What?” Jisung’s up instantly, fixing Seungmin with a look of pure vexation. “It’s your room, of course you’ll sleep here.”

Seungmin shrugs, although it’s cute, really, how indignant Jisung seems. “I was going to take the couch downstairs.”

“No way,” Jisung argues, glaring at him. “You’re sleeping here and that’s final.” 

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you love me,” Jisung replies immediately, and Seungmin’s heart skips a beat. “And also your bed is much warmer than the couch,” he adds as an afterthought.

Seungmin nods thoughtfully. “My bed _is_ warmer than the couch.”

“And you love me,” Jisung reminds him with narrowed eyes.

“And I love you,” he admits, and decides it’s worth it when Jisung smiles a little shyly at him, like he’s the same sixteen year old kid he’d kissed in a run-down arcade all those years ago.

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

“No way,” Jisung turns to look at him with wide eyes as they step out of the car. “Is that–”

Seungmin nods jerkily. “Yeah.” He feels equal parts nervous and excited. It’s been maybe five years since he – since _they_ – last came here, and it looks pretty much the same. The wide glass doors still have the sticky imprints of rowdy teenagers’ hands, the door frame is still a vivid shade of blue, and Seungmin can hear the awful music from inside the arcade even as they stand shivering on the pavement.

“Why are we here, though?” Jisung asks, glancing curiously at him. 

“What do people usually come to do at an arcade?” Seungmin snarks, pushing the door open. Immediately, the music _and_ excited yells fill the air around him and he flinches. He’d forgotten how loud it could get here. 

“Play games,” Jisung answers, and then a beat later, “Kiss their best friend.” Even though he can’t see the lower half of Jisung’s face because of his mask, Seungmin can tell that he’s smirking. 

“You’re so funny,” Seungmin deadpans as Jisung laughs and laughs, then waits for the counter to clear so he can get a card issued for them. It takes a few minutes and Jisung scrolls through his phone as they wait. Seungmin collects the card and then the two of them wander deeper into the arcade, where the lights are significantly dimmer and the _smell_ – had it always been so bad? 

Jisung wrinkles his nose. “Your mom told you to take me out for lunch to someplace _nice_ ,” he complains, tugging at Seungmin’s arm. And then, before Seungmin can retort, he snickers and says, “Do you think Rowan still works here?” 

Seungmin snorts. “I’d sure hope not. Imagine being stuck here – I’d die.”

“And yet _we’re_ here,” Jisung points out with a grimace, remembering that he’d been upset only moments ago. “Seriously though, why _are_ we here? I doubt we’re here for the games; you were always complaining about them before.” 

“Will you stop whining,” Seungmin grumbles, dragging him to a game at the far back. The paint on the game machine they had frequented so many times before is chipping slightly, and the leather covers on the seats are torn in some places, but otherwise it’s pretty much the same. Seungmin remembers it clearly, even now. In fact, he doubts he could ever forget it. He had been _so_ frustrated that day because no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t get the hang of that stupid game, and all the while Jisung was laughing at him like it was the funniest thing ever. He remembers how annoyed he had felt when Jisung had slid in next to him, mastered the games within minutes. Remembers how he had secretly been so pleased when Jisung lost. He wonders now if he’d done it on purpose. 

It takes him a minute to shake out of his reverie, and he realizes with a jolt that Jisung has been unusually quiet during the entirety of his trip down memory lane. He turns to face him and halts when he sees the faraway look in Jisung’s eyes, like he’s reliving it all with him. And then he shakes his head, his expression unreadable as he looks at Seungmin. “You remember what happened here, right?

Seungmin nods; he can’t forget even though he had spent a year trying to. For a moment, neither of them do anything, and then Jisung opens his mouth, almost begins to say something, but Seungmin is quicker. He grabs the lapels of Jisung’s coat, tugs him closer till he’s pressed flush against him and revels in the way Jisung’s eyes widen at the sudden proximity. “This isn’t how it went last time,” he murmurs, but there’s a smile on his face anyway. 

“Yeah,” Seungmin breathes, and then kisses him. Five years ago, Seungmin had panicked. He had wondered _why_ his best friend of so many years was suddenly kissing him in the back of an arcade where their other friends would easily be able to see them. Confusion had given way to disbelief soon enough, because _his_ _best friend_ was kissing him, the same best friend that he’d secretly – or maybe not so secretly, as Hyunjin would be all too glad to point out – been in love with for far too long. 

Right now, however, he can only stifle the sudden burst of pure, unbidden glee that threatens to spill out of his lips in the form of a laugh as he kisses his ex-boyfriend. He can feel Jisung smile too, his nose bumping against Seungmin’s for a moment before they both break out into a laugh and Jisung finally pulls back with a dazed smile. “Wow, Kim Seungmin,” he comments as he wraps his arms around Seungmin’s neck, his eyes scrunched into tiny half-moons. “You know what comes next, right?”

Seungmin laughs. “Yeah,” he says again. The next part has always been his favourite. He leans against the back of the seat exactly like Jisung had five years back, looks right into Jisung’s starry eyes and repeats the words he’d heard an eternity ago but will remember for eternities to come: 

“Hannie,” he begins, with all the seriousness a lovesick, sixteen year old Han Jisung had mustered eons before: “Will you go out on a date with me?” 

❄︎ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then jisung says no. jokes lol. they kiss or whatever ! ill leave it to your imagination. anyway if you made it this far thank you so much for reading! this is probably the fic i struggled w the most but i do like the ending a little lol so !! thank you again i hope you enjoyed reading this ! if you did, comments and kudos will be highly appreicated! stay safe and i hope you all are having/ had a wonderful holiday <33  
> edit: [12/01/20] while writing this i was so convinced seungmin loved avocados but apparently he doesn’t eat them at all?? (shocker, i know) so 4 the sake of this fic please pretend he does 😭🙏
> 
> my socials: [twitter](https://twitter.com/daengkas) and [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/sungdaengs)


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